#i wish i could go back in time just to go through that emotion again

[misshoneyimhome]

Inexperienced reader seeing him riled up from the game after being out due to injury during the playoffs, and she gets so hot and bothered she would not be able to keep her pussy out of William. After the two of you wake up in the morning, you mount him for your 4th round in the past 24 hours. Your cervix hurt, his cock was sensitive, and you couldn’t take any more stimulation, but whenever you looked at him and saw his beard, rings, and muscles, you couldn’t help but think about your pussy. You're riding relentlessly as William admires your ass as he leans up against the headboard with his hands squeezing your hips as he watches you. Your pace quickens as you approach your climax. You let out a loud moan as he grasps your hips tighter and fucks you with more force. You ride him until you finally reach your climax, and he follows suit and pulls out, releasing his load all over your ass. I apologize I had to share my Sunday slutty thoughts, especially after last night.

Alright, darlings, we're back again 🤍

Truth be told, I found this chapter a bit challenging to write 🌺 Part of me didn't want to use William's difficult times as a source of entertainment, so I want to stress that this chapter is written with nothing but pure love for him ❤️ My heart truly goes out to him, and honestly, I'm just glad he pulled through 💕

Furthermore, clearly I don't know the full details of the situation, so what I've included in this chapter is based on rough information found through social media - Please, don't read too much into it ❤️

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy it 😊

Warnings; where to begin - 18+ smut; fingering - vaginal and anal; *rimjob* (f receiving), anal toy (butt plug); unprotected vaginal penetration (in combination butt plug), protected anal sex, oral sex (f and m receiving), more vaginal fingering; unprotected sex (p in v), cum shot; please, let me know if I missed something;

Word count; 8K+

Combo of other requests: [taste so good] [riled up]

「Inexperienced!reader x Willy」

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny @Fortheloveofnylander @justwanderingbutneverlost @cixrosie

_

All good boys go to heaven - But bad boys bring heaven to you pt XVII I William Nylander 🖋️⚡️💦🌶️ 🌶️ 🔥

You never imagined your heart could ache this much for a man. After your latest break-up with your ex, you were certain you had built a strong enough wall to prevent anyone else from controlling your deepest emotions. But then along came William Nylander.

William was the most exciting, intense, thrilling, and concerning relationship you had ever been in. The turmoil of your time together was much like to a roller-coaster, with breath-taking highs and gut-wrenching lows. Yet, most days were filled with pure joy. The love between you, the connection you shared, was so profound that you were convinced you could overcome anything together. However, this situation, you had no idea how to navigate.

You had done your utmost to support your boyfriend through everything. Through thick and thin, wins and losses, you always stood by his side. You had learned the hard way what it entailed being an NHL girlfriend, both the good and the bad. And just as much as you relished the highs of the celebrations, you had grown equally fierce and strong to keep yourself steady during the tough times.

However now, you were seeing William at his lowest. The worst you had ever seen him, and you had no idea how to bring him back, how to be the support he needed, the light to lift him. He had always been your rock, the one to pull you out of your darkest moments, but now the roles were reversed, and you felt helpless.

You tried everything: comforting words, silent companionship, even giving him space, but nothing seemed to work. The weight of his struggles pressed heavily on you both, and the feeling of inadequacy was overwhelming. You just wished you could do more, to be more for him.

And it was in this moment of despair that you realised you couldn’t do it alone. William's father had always been his anchor, the solid ground and mentor he could rely on. And knowing William had already had numerous calls with him about his emotional state, you understood you had to call in stronger forces: his family. So, you reached out to his mother, with whom you already had a good relationship, explaining the situation and hoping that their presence and unwavering support would be the key to bringing William back to his true self.

The love you had for him was boundless, and you would go to any lengths to see him smile again, to watch the light return to his eyes. 

_

The Toronto Maple Leafs were heading into the first round of the playoffs, and everyone was beyond excited. Despite the several losses the team had faced in the final games of the regular season, the players did their best to keep their spirits high and focus on bringing their A-game to the first match.

And naturally, they had to face the Boston Bruins—a sworn enemy and one of the toughest teams for the Leafs to beat. Yet, as with most sportsmen and women, the challenge often served as extra fuel, igniting a strong determination to beat the unbeatable.

It wouldn’t be easy; everyone knew that. Despite all players putting in extra effort to train and prepare, anxiety still lingered, the fear of the outcome hanging over them as they geared up to bring their best, knowing otherwise it would be final.

And you did everything you could to be the greatest support for William. You knew how hard he’d worked for this, to play his best in the playoffs and possibly take the team further this season, especially after his contract extension.

You had just had one of the most intense nights together—remarkable, considering how most of your intimate nights were rather intense—sharing the deep connection that had bonded you from the very beginning of your relationship. However, what followed was something you had never seen coming.

The following morning, the atmosphere was different. William was unusually quiet, his face a mask of concentration and underlying tension. You tried to engage him in light conversation, but his responses were short and distracted, and you could see the weight of the upcoming game bearing down on him, the pressure mounting.

In an attempt to ease his stress, you decided to surprise him with his favourite breakfast. And as you moved around the kitchen, you kept stealing glances at him, hoping to catch a glimpse of the carefree William you knew. But instead, his eyes were distant, lost in thoughts of strategies and plays.

And when you finally sat down together, you reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. "Hey, you’ve got this," you whispered as you flashed him a soft smile, your voice filled with all the love and encouragement you could muster. He looked at you then, really looked at you, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of the man you loved so deeply. But just as quickly, it faded. “Hey, what’s wrong, babe?”

It was the first time you’d ever been this worried about him. The empty look in his eyes, his pale skin, and the fact that he hadn’t taken a single bite of his food had you beyond concerned. You could almost feel your own stomach turn the more you looked at your distraught boyfriend.

And the worst part? He didn’t even say a word. Instead, he just poked his pancake with his fork, letting out a deep sigh.

You reached over, gently placing your hand on his again. "Willy, talk to me," you urged softly, hoping to break through the wall he seemed to have built around himself. "Whatever it is, I’m sure we can handle it together."

But William just let out another deep sigh, rubbing his forehead with his free hand, and you could truly see his distress, something you’d never experienced before with this usually cheerful and strong man. This morning, he just seemed like he’d been run over by a bulldozer.

And knowing William well enough not to pressure him into talking more than he felt like, you let the moment be silent, offering him time and space to breathe, trusting he would eventually talk when he was ready. But he still didn’t say anything. Minutes went by, and only silence hung in the air.

It was almost unbearable. Seeing the love of your life in pain like this, not telling you what was going on within him, what he thought, made your heart ache. You felt your palms getting sweatier and your eyes welling up a little as you awaited his words. But still, nothing.

You only felt a small relief when you watched him take two bites of the pancake, but then he quickly put down the fork and rested his face in his palms. Letting out a deep breath, he hid his face, and that prompted a tear to escape from your eye.

“Willy… what’s wrong?” you whispered.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled into his hands.

“What?”

“I said I don’t fucking know!” he suddenly shouted, looking up from his hands and sitting straight in his chair.

You were baffled. William had never yelled at you like this before, and you didn’t know why he did. You were aware of the pressure he was under due to the impending games, but you also knew he was more than capable of managing the situation. After all, it wasn’t the first time the Leafs had been in the playoffs - in fact, just last season, they even progressed to the second round. So, why William was suddenly furious and behaving in this way caught you completely off guard. And you were unsure of how to respond.

So, you found yourself holding your breath, then exhaling deeply as you maintained your gaze on the man in front of you. You had to swallow hard, attempting to meet his eyes, yet he continued to avoid yours and glanced around. You could sense his frustration. He couldn't remain still, his head moving from side to side, up and down, his hands combing through his hair, and then back to staring out of the window as he nervously bit his lip.

Once again, there was utter silence. Only the faint buzzing noises from the outside world hummed in the background as you allowed another tear to trickle down your cheek. This was unlike anything you had experienced before. This wasn’t one of those situations where one of you was jealous because of an ex or an attractive person flirting. No, this was something different. This was William in anguish and distress, and clearly struggling to cope with it.

And a part of you simply wanted to walk over to the other side of the table, embrace him, kiss him passionately, and let him vent his frustrations on you. If releasing his anger through a good fuck was what he needed, he could direct it towards you. Regardless of any bruises or other consequences he might inflict, all you wanted was to comfort him.

But you sensed that that was not what he required at this moment. So, you allowed him his space. Remaining still in your seat, you simply observed him with a defeated expression, waiting for him to speak. However, the only interruption to the silence was the ringing of his phone.

Releasing another heavy sigh, William answered the call. “Hey… yeah… sorry… Hmm, yeah, I’m… I’m on my way.”

You could hardly find your voice. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him walk away without a word, and once again, you had to brush away a tear. You knew it likely had nothing to do with you. You hadn’t done anything wrong, so you convinced yourself he was probably just frustrated. Yet, as you remained seated and wiped away a few more tears, you felt a pain inside you. Like a dagger to the chest.

Minutes went by after the door shut close before you rose and cleared the table, your movements mechanical. You needed to keep yourself occupied, to divert your mind from the tumult of emotions, and as you washed the dishes, you replayed the morning in your head, scouring for any signs you might have overlooked, any hints to what was truly transpiring in William's mind.

And when the kitchen was all cleaned up, you leaned against the counter, gazing out of the window. You understood the importance of resilience, not just for William but for yourself as well. This wasn't the first obstacle you had encountered together, and undoubtedly wouldn't be the last. You had to trust that your love was strong enough to withstand whatever this was, that you would emerge even stronger on the other side.

Choosing to give him some space, you only sent William a brief text. "Take your time, I'm here when you're ready. I love you." You hoped the message would provide him with any kind solace, even just the tiniest bit of reassurance that he wasn't facing this alone, even if it felt that way to him.

The remainder of the day then dragged on, each moment stretching like an eternity, as you attempted to occupy yourself, yet everything served as a reminder of him. The vacant chair at the dining table, the echo of his laughter reverberating in your mind, the lingering fragrance of his cologne. It all became overwhelming.

And just as hope began to wane, your phone buzzed with a message from William. "I'm sorry about this morning. I love you too. Be home soon."

Relief flooded through you, the tension in your body easing slightly. It wasn't a resolution, but it was a step forward. 

_

However, the days following the morning turned out to be more challenging. And what made it worse was the uncertainty of what to do. Even William himself was at a loss, as he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong.

All he could articulate was a sense of unwellness. Initially, he mentioned discomfort in his shoulder, feeling unable to engage his physique as usual. But then, there were mentions of stomach issues, or perhaps it was his lower back?

One thing was for sure: you were clueless about what was happening, and you lacked any guidance on how to navigate such a situation. Neither the team's medical staff nor the physiotherapists could provide William with any relief. He was simply in agony, and the cause remained a mystery.

In fact, he was in so much pain that he missed out on the first two games in Boston. Despite attempting to train, hoping to find a workaround on the ice with slow, controlled movements, he still couldn’t function properly. His usual precision in aiming and shooting was compromised, and his body continued to ache.

The frustration was tangible, evident in every crease of his brow - he, a seasoned warrior, found himself side-lined by an invisible adversary. And the uncertainty surrounding his condition only made his distress worse as his customary confidence was replaced by a haunted expression that tugged at your heartstrings.

So, when he phoned after the Leaf’s victory in Boston while his teammates celebrated, expressing his reluctance to join, you took action based on what you believed was best and reached out to the person who knew him best: his mother. And it didn't take long for his family to arrive in Toronto, just before the team returned for game three.

And fortunately, it seemed that their presence brought a measure of solace. Camilla, his mother, with her nurturing nature, immediately took charge of caring for William. And as she prepared his favourite meals, ensured he took his migraine medication, she provided the emotional support that only a mother could offer. Meanwhile, his father and siblings lent their undivided support, engaging him in light-hearted conversations and reminiscing on shared memories.

"Thank you, y/n," Camilla spoke softly as the two of you stood in the kitchen, her words barely audible amidst the distraction of the TV captivating the others. "For reaching out – we all know this isn’t easy for you."

You nodded, offering her a gentle smile as you found solace in witnessing your boyfriend's gradual improvement. "Well, thanks for arriving so quickly," you sighed softly. "I'm not used to this... I mean, I just want to support him so desperately... but I feel fucking helpless," you admitted, feeling the tears welling up again as the depth of your emotions for William overwhelmed you.

"Simply being here means the world, dear," Camilla reassured you. "Trust me – sometimes, there's nothing more you can do, no matter how much you wish otherwise," she added, briefly glancing at Michael sitting on the couch, the man she had supported through the peaks and valleys of his hockey career.

"I know," you almost whispered, your gaze fixed on William. "It's just..."

"You love him," Camilla finished your sentence, offering you a compassionate smile as you turned back to face her.

"Yes, I really do," you affirmed, returning her smile.

"Good – because he loves you too, and you being here for him through it all, that's what he needs most right now."

The sentimentality of the moment was palpable, and thankfully, despite his lack of good sleep lately, you even managed to earn a few smiles from William's lips. You simply made sure to demonstrate that you were still by his side, and he even reciprocated by kissing you goodnight before the day of the third playoffs game, which was to be held on home turf in Toronto.

All of you went about the day slowly and just taking a moment at the time. William was finally eating properly again, and you sensed that his pain was gradually fading, smiles softly curving on his perfect pink lips as he looked at you with nothing but joy. 

And before the match, you and William took the dogs out for a stroll to soak in some fresh air, just like you’d usually do before you’d send him off to a game. Meanwhile, his family ensured everything was set for some quality time together, as they were all aware that watching the game from home wouldn’t be easy on William, understanding his longing to be back on the ice. Nonetheless, supporting the team was paramount at that moment.

And as you wandered through the park, William's hand sought yours, giving it a tender squeeze. "Thank you," he murmured softly, his eyes reflecting the gratitude and affection he held. "For everything."

"You don’t need to thank me, Willy," you simply responded, leaning closer to him. "I’m here because I love you. Besides, I've already told you, we’re in this together."

William nodded, his expression softening as he gazed. "I know we are. It's just tough not being out there, you know? Watching the team and not being able to help... it's hard."

"I can only imagine what you’re feeling," you confessed. "I know I don’t fully understand what you’re going through right now, but you'll make it back onto that ice – I'm certain of it – and when you do, you'll be stronger than ever."

A genuine smile graced his lips, warming your heart as the two of you walked alone with the doodles by your feet. "I hope so."

And upon returning home, the condo was infused with the comforting scent of dinner, as his family had prepared dinner, and the atmosphere exuded warmth and unity. And as everyone gathered around the table, conversation flowed effortlessly, and for a moment, it felt like normalcy had returned.

Then, after the meal, as game time drew near, you settled into the living room along with William's family. Sitting next to William, you could sense the tension in his demeanour, his eyes fixed on the screen, every muscle in his body tensed with anticipation.

And as the game played on, the room buzzed with a blend of excitement and apprehension. Every shot, every save, every moment on the ice was observed with held breaths, and William's family alternated between cheering and groaning with each play, striving to maintain high spirits.

"Come on, come on – you've got this," William muttered under his breath as the game drew to a close. However, as the final horn sounded, the score stood at a disheartening 4-2 victory for the Bruins, eliciting deep sighs from everyone.

The disappointment etched on William's face was evident. It wasn't solely the disappointment of his team's defeat, but also the frustration of being unable to contribute. And you knew that no words could assuage his feelings at that moment. All you could do was exactly as Camilla had advised: stand by him and reassure him that regardless of the circumstances, you weren’t going anywhere.

So, as the night drew to a close, you bid farewell to his family, allowing them to retire to their hotel room while you and William sought solace in the comfort of your bed. And amidst it all, you found a glimmer of comfort when William enveloped you in a tight embrace.

"Thank you for being mine," he whispered. "I don't know what I'd do without you..."

"And you’ll never have to find out, Willy," you responded, your heart swelling with love and pride. "I'll always be here. No matter what."

_

Fortunately, your plan appeared to have worked just as you had hoped. And the following day, William was up and about, eager to give his all and return to the ice as soon as possible.

Perhaps it was the solace of his family's presence, perhaps it was your steadfast support, or perhaps it was simply William being William, pushing himself as he always had. Regardless of the reasons, you remained by his side, and the moment you witnessed his determination to return to the playoffs, you knew he was fuelled by nothing but resolve.

His usual confidence had returned, his gameplay was stronger than ever – just as you had predicted – and as he laced up his skates, William couldn’t shake the thought that he needed to express his gratitude to you once the season concluded. However, that moment was not yet at hand. Right now, he needed to concentrate on the game.

Yet, focusing was easier said than done. Despite William's triumphant return to the game, effortlessly gliding over the ice, the match evolved into a fiercely intense and frustrating contest. Van Riemdyk's goal served as the first setback for the Leafs, yet it paled in comparison to the gut-wrenching blow of the second Bruins goal, scored by Marchand. And to top it off, William's old friend and now rival, David Pastrnak, extended the Bruins' lead to 3-0.

William wasn’t just frustrated; he was furious. Furious that despite giving his all, his heart pounding with every shot on goal, and his adrenaline surging with every miss, he found himself on the losing end. His anger simmered, and he lacked the energy to even attempt to conceal it.

And the dynamic on the bench shifted dramatically when Mitch then voiced his complaint about a missed penalty for the opposing team, asserting that he had been unfairly treated by the referee. William, feeling the weight of the game and the mounting frustration, reached his breaking point. Without hesitation, he delivered a swift remark to his teammate, reminding him of the high stakes they were facing.

"Stop fucking crying, bro!" William's outburst echoed across the bench. "This isn’t junior!"

You had never witnessed William in such a state. While he had been fired up on occasion during your time together, frustrated by the game, this was an entirely different level. Sitting just a few seats away, watching his heated expression on the big screen as the game progressed, you found it difficult to tear your eyes away. He wore his emotions on his sleeve, the tension and intensity of the playoffs were clear.

And, if you were being honest, it ignited something unlike anything else. Whether it was due to ovulation or not, witnessing this side of your boyfriend stirred something primal within you. You found yourself clenching your thighs together in your seat, biting your lower lip as your mind wandered to the untamed fantasies of what he could do to you in such state. 

"Hey, are you alright?" Sanna's voice broke through your reverie, concern evident in her tone as she noticed your distracted state.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine," you breathed out, offering a smile. "Just nerves from the game…"

Sanna nodded in agreement, sharing the same level of anticipation as the game went on. "Yeah, better get used to it. Nothing compares to the playoffs, believe me," she attempted to lighten the mood with a touch of humour in her voice.

However, unbeknownst to her, your thoughts were elsewhere. You had already witnessed your boyfriend at his lowest, offering him unwavering support and reassurance of your love, promising to face any challenge together. So, that wasn’t it.

No, what truly had your mind spinning, was the arousal stirred within you as you watched him take to the ice once more, utilising his size and strength to navigate through the opposing players. His prowess, especially evident during his penalty in the third period, left you in a state of heightened desire, causing your thoughts to wander into forbidden territory. And you caught yourself pressing your lips together to suppress any sounds that might betray the illicit fantasies running rampant in your mind.

However, as the final whistle blew, you were jolted back to reality, shaking your head to clear the haze of desire. It was then that you noticed Mitch had managed to score a goal while your mind had been preoccupied. Yet, it proved insufficient.

Tonight, had undoubtedly been one of the most challenging experiences you had experienced with the team. And you feared that more such nights lay ahead. The only comfort came during William's post-game interview, where he explained that the heated exchanges on the bench were just part of the game, and the team understood that no one took it personally. 

And as William's reassuring words to the press echoed, dispelling any doubts about his relationship with Mitch Marner, your mind continued to replay his earlier display of raw emotion. The way he had unleashed his frustrations had left you throbbing with lust, yearning for his touch. And given the recent lack of intimacy between you due to William's struggles, you were eager to feel your boyfriend's closeness sooner rather than later. 

Despite your longing, you made sure not to pressure William. You understood the challenges he had been facing, not only with physical pain but also with his reluctance to seek assistance, so you respected his need for time and space.

What you didn’t consider, however, was that William was yearning for you just as much. He knew his focus on himself was important, recognising his priority was his health. Yet, he also craved for release, and more significantly, he hungered for the euphoria that only the two of you could reach together.

So, as you stepped inside your condo, the air crackled with tension. William quickly closed the door behind you, as he drew you into a passionate, fervent kiss, and his hands explored your body eagerly, grasping your waist and pulling you closer.

"Willy," you gasped into the kiss. "You don't have to... it can wait."

"No, I need you," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with longing. "Baby, I need you so much."

You sensed the lingering tension from the game still simmering. Despite the soft words he had spoken during the interview, there was an undeniable intensity of frustration brewing within him, seeking release.

So, you nodded, your breath hitching as his hands slipped under your shirt. "I need you too, Willy," you whispered in response. “You’re so fucking hot when your mad during a game.” 

And without another moment's hesitation, William lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom, his lips never parting from yours. As he gently laid you down on the bed, his eyes smouldered with desire, his touch a delicate yet commanding caress.

In a flurry of movement, your clothes joined his on the floor, and as he hovered above you, his breath hot against your skin, the anticipation surged to almost unbearable heights.

"I've missed this," he confessed, his lips trailing down your neck, igniting a fire within you that had long been dormant.

"Me too," you breathed, your fingers threading through his hair as he continued his exploration.

He savoured every moment, rediscovering your body with an intensity that reignited the flames of thirst between you. The warmth of your skin against his, his growing hardness against your thigh with each kiss and touch. And you had just the idea of what would satisfy his needs. 

William had broached the subject some time ago, before facing his recent injury. However, you hadn't felt ready at the time, and William never pressured you when it came to such matters. You had only done it once before, and he understood that you needed to prepare yourself before considering it again, mentally, and physically. Yet tonight, it felt like the perfect moment to allow him to touch you in that way once more.

Truth be told, the need had been brewing within you too, longing for the kind of intimacy you could only share with him, to reach such heights. So, as you both were entwined in each other's heat, sharing passionate kisses, you leaned back slightly to meet his gaze.

"Willy," you whispered softly. "I want... I want you to... make love to me... the other way..."

"You mean?" William's voice was barely above a whisper, his heart racing with anticipation.

You nodded gently. "Yes... like that..."

William hesitated for a brief moment, wanting to ensure that you were absolutely certain about your request and that it wasn't just about fulfilling his desires. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice laced with concern, yet hints of excitement. 

Once again, you nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. "Yes, I'm sure."

With William, you always felt safe, and you appreciated how he always double-checked to ensure your comfort. Yet, in this particular moment, you were more than certain about your suggestion.

So, William then withdrew slightly, the air between you thick with unspoken desire. Slowly, he moved away from you, reaching over to the nightstand where you expected him to retrieve the handcuffs, as he had done countless times before. However, to your surprise, he retrieved a small box, a soft grin spreading across his handsome features.

"I ordered this a little while ago... but I didn’t want to use it, because... you know," William confessed, his voice trailing off as he knelt in front of you, his gaze fixed on you as he placed a small box before you.

His eyes bore into yours as you picked up the box, opening it to reveal the dark blue butt plug, adorned with his golden initials that shimmered under the dim light. A surge of anticipation rippled through your chest, causing your breath to catch slightly. Seeing his initials on such an intimate item filled you with a mix of arousal and profound emotional connection. It was another layer of your shared intimacy, a testament to how well he understood your desires and how eager he was to explore them with you.

"Do you like it?" William asked, his voice low and filled with desire.

And you could only nod, locking eyes with him as you softly spoke. "Yes, I love it."

A soft smile graced his lips, transforming into something more possessive and heated. "Good. Because tonight, I want to remind you just how much you mean to me. I love you so much, baby."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body already responding to the promise they held. And moving closer, William's hands then caressed your skin with a tenderness that left you yearning for more. He set the toy aside for a moment, his lips finding yours in a slow, passionate kiss that left you breathless, making sure you felt completely at ease. 

"You’re mine," he murmured against your lips, his hands tracing every curve of your body, igniting a fire within you. "And I’m going to make sure you feel it."

Your heart pounded in your chest as he guided you on the mattress, gently positioning you on your knees and elbows with deliberate movements filled with intent. The coolness of the sheets contrasted with the heat building inside you, and as William's hands then trailed down your back, his fingers slowly grazed over sensitive spots that elicited gasps from your lips.

Your knees sank beneath you and your hips arched into the air, as you felt a wave of anticipation wash over you. Peering back, you watched as William sat up still on his knees, his hand running over the curves of your ass. "Such a nice fucking ass," he praised, his voice thick with desire. "Do you like it when I play with it, äskling?"

You responded with a nod, pushing back against his hand as a silent signal of consent. His palm smoothed over the curve of your cheeks, sending tingles of excitement coursing through your body, and when his finger then very gently pressed against your tightest entrance, your breath caught in your throat. It was a kind of pleasure unlike anything else. And only with William did you feel yourself ease into the moment. 

Taking in a deep breath, you concentrated on relaxing your body. And only when William sensed your comfort, you felt the sensation of his hot saliva dripping down your opening before his finger slowly and carefully pushed inside, making your body tremble with pleasure.

"Relax, baby," William encouraged softly. "You've done this so well before... I'm sure you can do it again..."

And as he gently buried his finger inside you, passing through your tight ring muscle, a rush of pleasure washed over you, causing your toes to curl and your fingers to grip the sheets. Paying attention to your soft moans, William then began to work his finger in and out of you slowly, each movement sending waves of ecstasy through your body. And squeezing your eyes shut, you surrendered to the pleasure.

**Then, to your surprise, William gently pulled out his finger, and you suddenly felt the new sensation of his hot tongue against your hole, eliciting a whispered expletive from your lips as you bucked forward in pleasure.

“Oh… oh yes…” you moaned under your breath. 

His hands roughly gripped your cheeks, spreading them apart to give him more access. "Do you like that?" he murmured, his voice sending shivers down your spine as he continued to lick and kiss you. "I knew you would." 

The work of his mouth caused you to let out a loud moan as your body rocked with pleasure, the sensations coursing through you overwhelming in the best way possible. William then looked up at you with a satisfied smirk, his eyes gleaming with desire as he moved his hand to your face, his thumbs caressing your cheek as he whispered, "You taste so good."

Unintentionally, you pressed your body against him, feeling his throbbing cock behind you, dripping with pre-cum as your eyes locked, and you both knew it wouldn't end there.**

Then pulling back slightly, William then reached for the plug once more, coating it with lube before positioning it at your entrance. "Relax for me, älskling," he whispered, his voice both soothing and commanding.

And again, taking a deep breath, you allowed your body to yield to his command. Slowly and carefully, he began to insert the plug, creating a sensation both unfamiliar and intensely arousing, and the stretch and fullness drew a soft moan from your lips as your body adjusted to the feeling.

"Good girl," William praised, his hands gently massaging your hips as he pushed the plug in completely. "You're taking it so well."

The feeling of being filled, combined with his words and touch, had you trembling with need. You felt your cunt tingling in anticipation, yet you knew tonight you were taking it slow. 

William then leaned back on his heels, admiring the sight of you with the butt plug in place, his initials marking his claim on you. And leaning over, his lips brushed against your ear. "How does it feel?"

"A-amazing," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want more."

William’s chuckle was low and seductive. "Don’t worry, älskling. I’m not done with you yet."

He then positioned himself behind you, his hands spreading your cheeks apart for a better view. The sensation of fingers running up your wet folds, briefly stretching your vaginal entrance, sent shivers down your spine. And soon following you felt his hard cock pressing against your entrance, the anticipation almost too much to bear.

Then with a slow, steady thrust, William entered you, the fullness from the plug in your ass enhancing the sensation of his cock inside you, causing you to moan loudly, your body arching back to meet his thrusts.

"Fuck, you feel so good," William groaned, his pace slowly increasing as he lost himself in the pleasure. "So tight and perfect for me."

The combination of the butt plug and his cock was overwhelming, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. And as your chest was pressed into the pillow below you, your fingers seeking comfort in the sheets and William’s motions quickened, you felt the pressure building inside you. The knot in tummy forming, and your orgasm was approaching rapidly.

“Oh my… fuck… Willy…” 

Words were long lost on your tongue. Only the rush of a high taking over as your boyfriend pounded into you from behind, his hands holding you in place as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. His cock offered the perfect stimulation of your walls inside you, while the butt plug offered an extra intense sensation. 

And as William’s hands gripped your hips tightly, his movements becoming more erratic, he could feel you nearing your release. "Come for me, älskling," he commanded, his voice strained with desire as he slammed his hips against your buttocks. “Show me what a fucking good girl you are.” 

And your body almost instantly obeyed, the tension snapping as your orgasm crashed over you, causing your head to sink into the pillow below you, your fingers clenching the sheet as you cried out his name. Your body convulsed with the intensity of your release, feeling completely filled and utterly consumed by pleasure as your mind went into a blissful haze.  

William couldn’t contain his smirk as he felt you clench around him, the sensation of the butt plug touching him inside you driving him wild as well. Yet, he wasn’t ready to finish yet. He knew you wanted more, and so did he.

So, as he sensed you were slowly calming from the intense rush of an orgasm, he then tenderly withdrawing from you, letting your fluids trickle down your inner thighs as you whimpered in pleasure. He returned to the bedside table and retrieved a condom, before wrapping himself up, and then applied an extra layer of lubricant, ensuring your comfort and safety.

Yet just for a moment, while you were still refilling your lungs with air, William paused to admire your body before him. You were stunningly beautiful, and he had to remind himself that you belonged to him. Then, with careful precision, he grasped the anal plug, his initials shimmering as he delicately removed it.

"Oh, fuck baby," he murmured, observing your tight opening ready for him. And your gentle moans only spurred him on, his erection throbbing as he set the toy aside. "Remember, use the safe words if I hurt you in any way, alright?"

You nodded, breathing heavily, as you prepared yourself for what lay ahead. And then you felt it, the tip of his cock pressing against your anus, slowly and very gently penetrating.

"Yes, please..." you whispered softly, clutching the mattress as William tenderly entered you. The blend of pain and pleasure as he stretched and stimulated you was exquisite, and you couldn’t hold back your moans, signalling the pleasure he was causing you. 

And William had to release a deep growl of his own, feeling the tightness around him igniting intense arousal within him. But he knew he must maintain control. Though a part of him was still fuelled by the earlier frustrations, urging him to increase the pace, intensity, and depth, he was also determined to make sure your pleasure matched his own. So, with a desire to avoid causing you any discomfort, he moved his hips slowly, allowing his length to glide gently in and out of you.

But it was a lot for both of you to handle. Though the motions were steady and controlled, his thrusts gradually increased in speed, hitting you deeper and overstimulating your inside with every motion. And as you soon sensed another orgasm approaching, you knew you couldn’t hold back for long.

"Willy... oh fuck god... keep... keep going..." you moaned breathlessly, closing your eyes as the overwhelming pleasure almost consumed you. It wasn’t painful in the slightest – just pure, intense pleasure, as William felt nothing but incredible inside your ass, and you could feel how stretched you were.

"Fuck it, baby..." William grunted deeply, unintentionally increasing his speed even more as he pounded vigorously into you. "I can’t... hold back. You’re so tight," he almost spat out, feeling his climax building with each thrust.

His fingers dug into your hips as his pace quickened, and you couldn’t even alert him to your impending orgasm. A rush of pleasure surged through you as your mind blurred once more, your toes curling, and your fingers gripping the sheets even tighter than before. The wave of passion was more intense than anything you’d ever felt before, and as the world around you faded away, you cried out loudly. "Willy... I’m... oh god..."

You reached a peak of ecstasy like never before. Everything from the work of his mouth, the stimulation of the butt plug while he penetrated your cunt, and now, his vigorous thrusts pushed you once again into a euphoric state of mind as he made love to you anally.

However, as much as William enjoyed turning you into a mess below him, he longed to see your radiant face as he reached his climax. So, with as much care as possible in given situation, he pulled himself out, then swiftly turned you onto your back. Leaning over, he kissed you deeply, before guiding his cock towards your anus and penetrating you once more.

Your hands instinctively grasped the back of his shoulders, your nails leaving marks on his skin as pleasure surged through you once again.

"You’re so incredibly beautiful, baby," he murmured into the curve of your neck. "I fucking love feeling you around me... shit... love you so much... baby, I’m going to..."

And before he could finish his sentence, William released a deep growl and spilled himself into the condom.

It was a mind-blowing experience for both of you. The anticipation from the time you had spent apart, the intensity of the game, and the profound connection of your bodies in such an intimate manner. You both needed several minutes to return to reality, and while William stayed put inside you for a little longer, attempting to regulate his breathing, you both simply enjoyed the moment before withdrawing slowly and deliberately then collapsing beside you.

The air hung thick and heavy; the room permeated with the scent of sex. You felt your body tingling from the intense stimulation, your mind still spun in a whirlwind of ecstasy. And it was all worth it.

William had always prioritised ensuring you felt nothing but pleasure under his touch, and tonight was no exception. Even as he gallantly escorted you to the bathroom for clean-up, delicately rinsing your tender skin from the remnants of lube and sweat, in the shower his movements exuded genuine care and affection.

However, despite the gentle caresses and tender gestures, along with soft kisses and a romantic ambiance charged with desire, both of you still found yourselves unable to suppress the lingering mutual yearning.

Hands roamed eagerly over each other as your lips vied for dominance. You felt the hair on his chest beneath your palms, the warmth of his skin scorching against your touch, as his strong, muscle-defined arms pressed you firmly against the cool tiles of the shower wall. His beard was rough and scratchy, grazed against your cheeks as your hands cradled his face, drawing him nearer.

Despite the lingering soreness from your earlier activities, your body throbbed with a craving for more. And William wasted no time in fulfilling your desires. Tracing his lips tenderly along your jawline, he knelt before you, his gaze never wavering from yours. He planted kisses on your lower abdomen, his strong hands parting your legs gently, as his mouth then found your sensitive clit, eliciting electric waves of pleasure that surged through your body.

"Oh yes, mmm Willy," you moaned loudly, your hand entwined in his blonde locks. With your eyes then instinctively shutting, you leaned your head back against the tiles, the cool surface offering a refreshing contrast to the heat building within you.

And it didn’t take long for William to introduce two fingers into the equation, effortlessly sliding them into you. And with expert precision, he stretched your walls once more, bringing you to yet another orgasm. He knew your body like a map he had personally charted, every curve and sensitive spot committed to memory.

So, when it was your turn to reciprocate the oral favour, you did so eagerly. Switching positions, you skilfully took him into your mouth, your tongue and lips working around his already hard cock, as you relished the taste of him while he moaned above you. 

And just like yourself, William came harder and quicker than he’d usually do. "Turns out, I'm not the only one who tastes good, baby" you smirked up at him after swallowing his load.

That night, both of you slept deeply, sinking into a peaceful slumber that had been elusive for so long. The stress of William's injury and the intensity of the playoffs had weighed heavily on both of you, and as you were finally able to give into the much-needed rest, William’s arms held you closely to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing. 

_

As the morning light softly filtered into the room, casting a golden glow, you awoke with your naked bodies wrapped in each other, the memory of the previous night's passion still fresh. William’s morning erection stood proudly under the sheets, and as you watched him still peacefully asleep, your own cunt yet again pulsed with lingering desire. Yet, you waited patiently, taking in the serene sight, and reminding yourself that he was your boyfriend, a reality that sometimes felt too good to be true.

Minutes went by, but then William slowly stirred from his slumber, his ocean blue eyes opening to meet yours. He curved a faint smirk that melted your heart and soul all over again, and as his hands instinctively began to roam your naked curves, just as they had the night before, both of you leaned in to share a passionate morning kiss.

No words were needed. Everything in that moment was perfect, as you once more shared the lustful connection between you. Despite the soreness in your cervix and the sensitivity of his cock, the sight of his beard and muscular physique ignited an insatiable desire within you. Just like within William. 

So, with sensual motions, you gently pushed him onto his back, climbing atop him, facing away, to align your already wet core with his hardness. And William was quick to respond, sitting up slightly to lean against the headboard, watching you intensely as you lowered yourself onto him, allowing him to fill you up again.

William admired the view of your ass, his hands firmly gripping your hips as you began to slowly rock your hips. And he couldn’t help but bite his lip as he watched your cheeks bounce up and down his shaft, both of you edging closer to yet another climax.

With your hands braced on his thick, muscular thighs, you felt your climax gradually approaching, a moan escaping your lips as you intensified your movements under William’s guiding, tight hold on your hips. Desperate for more, as if you had been deprived of sex for weeks, William began to thrust into you with increased force, his hips slamming upward against you as he too approached a release.

And with his forceful thrusts, he drove you to orgasm, loud moans escaping your lips. As he too got closer to his own climax, with a dominant motions, William then pushed you forward, withdrawing his cock from your cunt before letting out a deep grunt and releasing himself onto your cheeks, marking you as his with his sticky, white cum.

It was another intense moment, your third or perhaps fourth sexual act since the game last night. Both of you were completely exhausted, out of breath from the intensity, yet still found space for soft cuddles.

And as you calmed down from yet another high, William held you close, your eyes meeting in a gentle gaze, sharing smiles and giggles. It felt like falling in love all over again, riding the high of a honeymoon phase as you savoured the moment, holding each other.

William’s thumb softly caressed your cheek, and as your breathing steadied, he broke the comfortable silence.

“I can’t describe how much I love you, y/n.” His voice was raw, low, and husky, his eyes deeply locked onto yours. “With everything I put you through… you still choose to be with me, and I can never tell you enough how much I love you for that…”

“Willy, you don’t need—”

“Shhh,” he pressed his pointer finger against your lips. “You don’t have to say anything, älskling. I just need to tell you that you’re the love of my life. I’m sure of it. And… I know you called my family to help –which I’m really grateful for – but you need to know that you’re truly my anchor. You make me want to be a better version of myself. You make me feel calm, make me feel like a good person, and there’s no way in this world I can ever show you how fucking grateful I am for that. I don’t ever want to be without you.”

You were lost for words. This man kept on surprising you, and you didn’t know how to articulate the fact that you felt exactly the same for him. So, simply placing his hand on your chest, you offered him a soft smile, and all you could manage to say was, “My heart belongs to you.”

[softiedingo]

[yanderenightmare]

TW: yandere, noncon, size/strength difference

gn reader

Thinking about breaking things off with your fuck friend 'cause you feel he's been catching feelings you have no intention of pitching...

“Why.” He asked, and the cross you’d made on your fingers in a wish to avoid the entire conversation untangled with a sigh.

“Please, don’t act dumb.” You groaned, exasperated and slightly irked. “You know why….” 

“No. Tell me.” He argued, and you sighed again in regret of your own common decency – wishing you’d taken the entire break-off over text instead, or at the very least taken the time to think about what you would say or do if and when he got this way. 

“You...”

You hesitated, taking a second to decide whether or not you really ought to voice it out loud – not because you had any doubts of it being true – but because the man in front of you was still very much a large brawny beefcake with temper issues no matter your sneaking suspicion that he saw you as something more than just a fuck friend.

“You’re getting too...” You continued, still scrambling for better words. Coming up short. “Clingy.”

He paused, his expression going from searching to a mix of offended and scrutinous.

“Clingy?” He repeated, forced disbelief a present factor in his tone. “If I remember correctly, you’re the one who clings to me- screaming my name- begging me to cum inside you and-”

You cut his rant off with yet another sigh accompanied by a shake of your head. “That’s not what I mean by clingy. I’m sorry, I should have said emotional, and your comment just proved that.”

You folded your arms across your chest, watching him reel.

“Anyway, it doesn’t really matter. We’re done.” 

You left him on the sofa to go put your shoes back on – admonishing yourself for coming inside in the first place when you could have just as quickly done this on the doorstep and walked away.

“You're not going anywhere until we talk this through.” He followed, his stronger hand latching onto your upper arm in a grip that was unnecessarily harsh.

You didn’t really mind, though – it was his lack of charm that had charmed you to begin with – you only wished he’d remained that same savage he was and not gone all lovey-dovey soft on you.

“There's nothing to discuss.” You felt as though you were repeating yourself, getting more annoyed by the fact. “It was fun; now it isn't.” You underlined, looking back into his eyes, cringing when seeing the gloss of something that you really hoped wouldn’t amount to tears while you were still there.

“I'm gonna need more than that.” He said, the grip on your arm still kept firm with no inclination of letting up.

You didn’t really want things to get more awkward by asking him to let you go – feeling as though maintaining the position of strength was important so he not mistake your resolution.

He had a nasty habit of never taking you seriously.

“You’re being childish.” You stated.

“Childish?!”

His grip tightened with his outburst, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t have your heart jump to your throat.

"Let go of me." Your voice had significantly diminished.

"You think you can tease me like this and then tell me to piss off?” He seethed, your arm aching in the bruising grip he had on it as he pulled you close until your face was an inch from his. “Think again."

Your breath thinned under his glare, and you felt nearly too stiff to do anything except stare back up at him in wait.

“Calm down.” You tried, but it seemed choice words were too little too late to save you.

“I am calm.” He hissed back into your face before pulling you back to the sofa.

Throwing you down on your back – you didn’t even have the time to gasp before he was on top of you.

“Get off me-” You whined, your hands shooting forth – trying with all your might to heave him off, but ultimately amounting to nothing more than a slight annoyance to the much larger man on top.

“It's all about sex with you, right? You want to have fun, right?” He said in a craze, and you cringed while he leaned down to graze your chest with chin-stubble and lips, whispering at your peachfuzz until goosebumps rose. “So let's have some fun.”

“Stop it – I said I don't want to anymore – I’m being serious.” You tried, once again – appealing to his reason.

But it would seem he was beyond reason…

“Oh? You're being serious?” He mocked with a sneer and a laugh. “You don't look it. If you want me to stop so badly, then stop me. Come on~ try a little harder. Show me how serious you are.”

You’re not sure why you took him up on the challenge, as you’d long known of your differences in build – how you posed as much of a threat as a bug in a mason jar...

But even a bug will try to escape still after the lid has been sealed.

“Come on~ you're not even trying~” He grossly crooned, smiling at your pitiful attempt at twisting him off with the useless help of your silly hands – how your much smaller body writhed beneath his weight and tried wriggling free.

Laughing dryly, he took your hands by the wrists and pinned them to the cushion beneath you. Sagging over you, his breath fanned your lips.

“What was I to you, huh?” He asked in a murmur, his face blank but his eyes swirling. “Just a toy?”

You were afraid to breathe, only keeping your gaze terror-wide of what he might do – still grasping to fathom how he’d even felt possessed enough to do this much – confused as to how you’d missed the signs while having not a single clue what more he was capable of.

“Guess now you're my toy, huh...” He muttered coldly.

And you just couldn’t help the whimper that it tore from you – finally understanding exactly what position you were in.

The disorienting knowing of what was soon to happen dawned on you mercilessly – and you completely broke under the hefty weight it had. 

“Oh? You’ gonna cry now?” He scoffed before hissing. “That's cute, seeing as I’m the one who’s had his heart stepped on.”

“S-stop it, get off me-” You cried, whole body shaking where you squirmed to no use nor end.

“Not so cold-hearted now, are yah, fuckin' bitch?” Was all he had to say while leaning into where thick streams of tears rapidly ran down your cheeks in stingy streaks. “You scared?” He whispered in licks at your ear. “Gonna start begging, hm?”

You only shook – eyes squeezed tightly to a close.

“Nah…” His tone scraped, similar to how the shaven stubble on his chin scratched lightly against your neck as he started placing small kisses there despite your whines. “'Cause you want this too. I know you do.” He insisted. “You're just scared I'll break your little heart at some point.”

You’re breath hitched as his hands parted with its twin – leaving it to keep your wrists pinned by itself as the other one traveled down between your bodies to undo your zipper.

You wanted to say something, but you were too scared to – listening to him and his lovesick speech – full of so many things you feared could trigger much sicker things.

“But I promise you that no one’s heart is gonna break here.” He vowed, still with his lips pressed wetly against your throat. “Not yours or mine.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Shinso, Kirishima

JJK – Sukuna, Gojo

HQ – Kageyama, Kuro, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins

BLLK – Reo, Isagi

AOT – Eren

[buckyalpine]

Reader that always cries/tries not to cry. As someone who has been yelled at for crying and who is extra sensitive, I live for the angst where the reader struggles to hold their emotions followed by all the fluff, comfort and reassurance.

-

"But-it feels like you don't care Bucky!"

"I told you I was busy y/n!" Bucky sighed out of frustration, running his fingers through his short locks, "You know how stressful this job is, it's not like I cancel our dates on purpose"

You couldn't help but feel a tinge of neglect as you stood in front of your boyfriend, fully dressed for your date only for him to text you that it would have to happen another night.

Again.

"I haven't seen you in weeks. You go for days without answering your phone. I only call you because I care about you, I love you" You could already feel the warning signs making their way throughout your body. Your throat felt tight making it difficult to swallow. Your eyes stung with fresh tears. Your nose felt warm, threatening to sniffle.

"Yeah I get that," He scoffed, shaking his head in annoyance. "I just don't know if you understand how much I have to do in a day"

"I'm not stupid Bucky" Your voice started to crack, feeling worse for adding to his stress as your own emotions started to crumble. You wanted to hold it together, to have one conversation where you didn't break but-

"But you don't get it- c'mon y/n, don't cry" Bucky bit out, the words coming out harsher than he intended, not realizing how much it would upset you. You bit your lip harder to keep your chin from trembling, fat tears threatening to slip out the more you tried to blink them back. Your throat ached, constricting your neck more and more.

"I-I'm s-sorry" You choked out, hating yourself even more for getting emotional, the frustration evident in your voice. You harshly wiped your face between hiccups, letting out a frustrated groan. Bucky blinked, his previous annoyance replaced with regret seeing how upset you were with yourself.

"I-I don't mean t-to cry" You dug your nails into your palms to try and get yourself together, your body betraying you wish a fresh wave of tears only making you feel worse, "I don't want to!"

Your body trembled, your arms moving to hug yourself in an attempt to hide away, squeezing yourself together to gain some semblance of control. Bucky cursed internally, now pissed at himself for losing his patience when you were only upset for not being able to see him. You never asked for much; the only thing you wanted was to spend time with him and recently he hadn't been doing that either.

"Hey-no-baby shhh, c'mere" Bucky pulled you to his chest, pressing his lips to the top of your head, rubbing your back up and down to calm your labored breaths. "Its not you angel, its me. I'm the one whose sorry, I shouldn't have spoken like that to you or said that, I'm sorry sweet girl"

"I-c-cry for-for everything" Your voice cracked into a defeated sob, embarrassed over how easily you broke down to tears, a new wave streaming down your face, wetting the front of his Henley. Bucky picked you up in his arms, carrying you over to bed where he could place you in his lap, cradling you to his body. "I h-hate it"

"My sweet, sensitive baby" Bucky cooed as he continued to cuddle you, rocking you in his arms while you got your breathing under control. "I'm sorry babygirl"

"I just missed you" You sniffled, clutching onto his dogtags while he kissed your temple repeatedly, stroking your hair.

"You have every right to be upset. I should be lucky my girl loves me so much, you don't even ask for a lot. I'm sorry I've been neglecting and cancelling on you so much, m'gonna take some time off so I can love on you properly"

You smiled into his chest, your body finally starting to relax, following the rise and fall of his chest.

"I'm sorry I cry so much- Bucky tipped your face up, pressing his lips against yours to stop your rambling.

"No, you cry as much as you want with me, I love that about you, okay?" He looked at your sincerely, meaning every word.

"But-

"You cry because you care. I love that you care so much. I love that cute little animal videos make you emotional. I love how deeply you feel for others. Fuck, I love how much you love me. I'll never meet anyone else who loves and cares for others the way you do. Don't ever change baby, you cry all you want"

You let out a small sniffle at his words making him chuckle, swiping his thumb across your cheek to wipe the tear the slipped out.

"What if it annoys you" you pouted while Bucky playfully pondered your question, pecking your lips again.

"Hmm, then you send Steve to beat me up. I promise he'll run at the chance at any given moment. Call Sam in too and get comfy with those fuzzy peaches you love so much"

"You sure?"

"I'm sure, doll" Bucky whispered, settling you under the covers with your head on his chest, planning to spend the rest of the day cuddling in bed. "Very sure"

[pucksandpower]

Changing Lanes

Charles Leclerc x Horner!Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc always thought he would spend the rest of his career racing in red. But you make him see that he deserves better than false promises and unrequited love

“Took you long enough,” you say, lounging casually on the small leather couch in Charles’ driver’s room, your fingertips tracing intricate patterns on the cushion beside you.

Charles raises an eyebrow, letting out a dry laugh as he kicks off his shoes. “Every single time I see you, Y/N, you always have something to say.”

You linger on him. “Is it my fault you had to chat with the entire paddock before coming here?”

He smirks, crossing the room. “It’s called being polite. Something you could learn from.”

“Polite?” You scoff, feigning innocence. “Oh, like how Ferrari celebrated that P3 like it was a win? That kind of polite?”

Charles stiffens but he keeps his cool. “We take what we can get.”

You tilt your head, eyes narrowing. “Starting on pole and settling for P3? Charles, you deserve better.”

“I know,” he sighs, avoiding your gaze. “But this is racing. Sometimes it just doesn’t go your way.”

You lean in closer, your voice dropping an octave. “It could, though. If you were with a team that actually valued you, that gave you a car worthy of your talent.”

He looks up, meeting your gaze with a challenge. “You mean Red Bull?”

A coy smile plays on your lips. “It’s not a secret that Dad wants you. And imagine … you, in a competitive car, and me, right by your side as your race engineer.”

Charles’ eyes dart to your lips then back up to your eyes. “Tempting,” he murmurs, leaning in just a fraction closer. “But is this for the team or for you?”

“Can’t it be both?” You whisper back.

His breath hitches and he pulls back slightly. “This isn’t just about racing, is it?”

You hesitate. “I see how they treat you. How they let you down time and time again. But with us ... with me ... it would be different.”

He looks conflicted. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” You press. “With Red Bull, you’d have support, a competitive car, and … me.”

Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not just about what happens on track. It’s about the politics, the contracts, the media ... it’s all complicated.”

“You make it sound like an impossible puzzle,” you say, tracing circles on his wrist. You gaze locks with his, trying to convey everything you feel.

“It might be.”

You lean in, lips just inches from his. “Then let’s solve it together.”

He hesitates, searching your eyes. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N.”

You smirk, confidence oozing from every pore. “Isn’t that what racing’s all about?”

Charles chuckles softly, the tension in the room slowly melting away. “You always have an answer for everything.”

“It’s the Horner in me,” you retort with a smug smile. “Besides, aren’t you tired of being just another pawn in Ferrari’s game?”

“It’s not easy. To just switch teams, to give up on something you’ve worked for your entire life.”

You reach up, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “Who says you’re giving up? You’d be making a choice. A choice to be somewhere you’re valued. Somewhere you have a real shot at the championship. With people who truly care about you and actions that reflect that.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “It’s not just about the racing. There are so many other factors.”

“Like what?”

He opens his eyes, meeting yours. “Like us.”

You blink, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“If I come to Red Bull … if I work with you … it changes everything. Our relationship. Our dynamic. Everything.”

You take a moment, absorbing his words. “We can handle it. We’re strong enough.”

He gives you a sad smile. “I wish I had your confidence.”

You cup his cheek, your thumb stroking his skin. “You have me. Together, we can face anything.”

Charles looks at you for a long moment, his emotions raw and exposed. Finally, he speaks. “I’ll think about it. But whatever I decide … know that it’s not just about racing. I refuse to give you up.”

“Just promise me one thing.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What?”

You lean in, your lips brushing his ear. “Never settle for less than you deserve.”

He smiles, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. “Same goes for you, Y/N Horner.”

***

“I still can’t believe they forgot to remove the radiator blank,” you murmur, your fingers softly tracing patterns on Charles’ bare chest as he lies next to you in his São Paulo hotel. The dim light from the bedside lamp paints soft shadows on his face, emphasizing the frustration in his eyes.

Charles sighs heavily, turning his head to look at you. “Neither can I. Another race, another issue. I don’t even know why I’m surprised anymore.”

You lean in closer, lips brushing against his ear. “You don’t deserve this, Charles. You’re better than this. Better than them.”

He chuckles humorlessly, eyes closing. “It seems like it’s one thing after another.”

“Come to Red Bull,” you whisper, fingertips dancing down his arm. “You know it’s the right move.”

He opens his eyes, looking deep into yours. “Y/N, we talked about this.”

You press a gentle kiss on his jaw, speaking against his skin. “Hear me out. If McLaren overtakes Ferrari in the Constructors’ standings, you can activate your exit clause. You could leave them, Charles.”

Charles swallows hard, feeling the warmth of your breath on his neck. “And if they don’t?”

“Then we’ll buy you out,” you say confidently, trailing kisses down his collarbone. “Dad’s already spoken about it. We want you. I want you.”

Charles’ breath catches as your hands explore his torso but he tries to focus. “Equal status with Max?”

“Of course,” you assure him, pressing your body flush against his. “You and Max, racing side by side. Just think of the possibilities.”

He groans, both from your touch and the tempting offer. “A car designed by Adrian Newey ...”

You nod, “With plenty of oversteer, just how you like it. No more one-sided compromises.”

He laughs softly. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

You smirk, lips hovering over his. “Always. And instead of Xavi, you’d hear my voice on the other end of the radio, guiding you, supporting you.”

Charles captures your lips with his, deepening the kiss before pulling back. “You’re making it very hard to think.”

“That’s the point,” you whisper with a playful grin, your hands tugging at his waistband.

He bites his lip, trying to resist your charms. “But Y/N ... it’s not just about the racing. It’s ... it’s us. What happens to us?”

You cup his cheek, gazing deep into his eyes. “We fight together, we win together. Every podium, every championship, we celebrate together.”

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “You make it sound so perfect.”

“It can be,” you promise, pressing soft kisses on his eyelids. “With Red Bull, you’d have everything you’ve ever dreamed of. And me.”

Charles smiles, caressing your cheek. “You’re very persuasive, you know?”

You grin. “It’s one of my many talents.”

He chuckles, capturing your lips once more. “I’ll think about it.”

“Whatever you decide, I’ll still be by your side.”

He smiles, pulling you closer. “I know. And that’s what makes this decision so hard.”

***

“Absolutely unbelievable,” your father mutters, watching the replay of Ferrari’s disastrous double stack. “You would think they’ve never done a pit stop before.”

You nod, equally shocked. But your attention shifts as the familiar figure of your favorite Monegasque storms into the Red Bull garage, his helmet still on and visor obscuring his face. You can feel the fury emanating from him.

“Charles?” You question hesitantly.

He doesn’t respond to you but instead turns to your father, “Christian, can we talk? Now. Somewhere private.”

Christian looks taken aback by the intensity in Charles’ voice but nods. “Of course.”

Charles glances at you. “You too, Y/N. Please.”

You follow, the weight of the moment heavy on your shoulders. Once inside the small office, Charles finally removes his helmet, revealing eyes red from restrained tears. He takes a moment, collecting himself before he speaks.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Charles exhales. “Every single time I think they’ve hit rock bottom, they find a new low. Today was the last straw.”

You approach him, gently placing a hand on his arm. “Charles, I’m so sorry.”

Your father is equally sympathetic. “That was hard to watch. I can’t even imagine what it felt like.”

Charles closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “It’s not just today. It’s everything. I gave them everything. I wanted to win with them. For my father. For Jules.”

You swallow hard, emotions swirling. “They would be so incredibly proud of you. No matter what.”

He blinks back tears, voice strained. “I wanted to drive that red car to the top for them. But I can’t keep sacrificing myself for a team that clearly does not value me in return.”

Your father speaks up, “Charles, if you’re thinking of a change ... Red Bull is ready to welcome you with open arms.”

Charles looks up, locking eyes with him. “I know. And as much as Ferrari has been my dream, my home, I can’t do this anymore. I want to be with a team that values me. I want to join Red Bull.”

You’re taken aback by his sudden declaration but the look in his eyes tells you that he’s made up his mind. “Charles,” you whisper, stepping closer. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“It’s hard,” he admits. “But this is where my heart is telling me to go.”

Your father gives the two of you a moment, leaving the office to give you privacy.

Charles takes a shaky breath, pulling you close. “I never imagined leaving Ferrari. But after everything, I know it’s the right decision.”

You wrap your arms around him, resting your forehead against his. “They will be so proud of you, Charles. No matter what colors you wear or what car you drive.”

He smiles weakly. “Thank you. I really needed to hear that.”

You pull back slightly, searching his eyes. “This is a big step. I don’t want you to regret anything. Are you still sure?”

He nods, determination in his gaze. “More than I’ve ever been.”

You smile, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Then welcome to Red Bull.”

***

“I have to tell Ferrari,” Charles straightens, determination evident in his eyes. “I just need to get it over with. Will you come with me?”

“Of course.“

Charles grabs your hand, pulling you towards his driver’s room. “Wait here,” he says, going in and returning moments later with his Ferrari jacket. He places it over your Red Bull team polo, attempting to keep your allegiance concealed for now. You both then proceed to the debrief room where the Ferrari team is waiting.

Fred Vasseur begins his speech the moment you both enter, “This wasn’t how we wanted to end the year but looking ahead to next season—”

Charles cuts him off, “Actually, there won’t be a next season. Not for me.”

The room falls into a tense silence, all eyes on the driver who has given them his heart and soul.

“What do you mean?”

Charles takes a deep breath, “I’ve decided to leave Ferrari.”

Gasps fill the room. Fred’s eyes land on you, finally noticing the Red Bull logo peeking out from under the jacket you’re borrowing. “And you bring her, of all people, here to tell us this?”

Charles squares his shoulders. “Y/N is here because I asked her to be. This decision is mine and mine alone.”

Xavi stands up, “After everything we’ve done for you! This is how you repay us?”

You can’t hold back any longer. “Everything you’ve done? You mean the countless strategy mistakes, the endless car issues, the complete lack of support?”

Another team member cuts in, “This is not your place, Y/N!”

“It is today,” you retort. “I’m here to support my new driver.”

Charles’ voice shakes but he speaks with conviction, “I gave everything for this team. I bled Ferrari red. But I can’t keep doing this. Not when it’s clear that my effort and commitment is not matched in return.”

Fred’s voice softens. “Charles, we’ve had our challenges but we can overcome them together.”

Charles shakes his head, tears threatening to spill. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m joining Red Bull. My manager will send over the necessary legal paperwork as soon as possible.”

The room is filled with murmurs, disbelief evident on every face. Charles takes one last look around, his eyes filled with pain, and turns to leave.

You follow closely, feeling the weight of every step as you exit the debrief room.

The second you’re around the corner, Charles breaks down. He rests his forehead against the wall, tears rolling down his face silently. “I didn’t ... I didn’t think it would hurt this much.”

You pull him close and try to find the right words. “It was never going to be easy. But you did what you had to. For yourself. For your future.”

He turns to look at you, eyes red-rimmed but determined. “I just wanted to make them proud.”

You cup his cheek, wiping away a tear with your thumb. “They would be proud of you. Not for the badge you wear or the car you drive but for the man you’ve become.”

Charles takes a shaky breath, pulling you into a tight embrace. The two of you stand there for a moment, finding solace in each other’s presence.

When he finally pulls away, he manages a weak smile. “Thank you. For standing by me.”

You squeeze his hand. “Always.”

***

***

***

Charles stands in front of the massive two-story trophy wall at the Red Bull Racing factory in Milton Keynes, eyes wide with wonder. “Ferrari would never do something so ... gaudy.”

You smirk, sidling up next to him. “And yet, you love it.”

“I do,” he laughs. “It’s … different.”

You lean in, whispering conspiratorially, “Well, Ferrari hasn’t had all that much to exhibit in the last two decades. Not for lack of trying from the drivers, of course.”

He playfully nudges you with his elbow, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Cheeky.”

The two of you walk further into the factory. “So,” Charles draws out, “I was wondering if you could recommend a good real estate agent in the area.”

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Why would you need an agent when I have a perfectly good apartment we can share?”

“Really? Are you sure? I just … I wasn’t sure if you would want that and I don’t want to pressure you.”

You roll your eyes affectionately. “Of course I do, Charles. It’s not even a question.”

He smiles, the weight of the decision to move seeming a little lighter now. “Thank you.”

You wink, taking his hand. “Come on, let me show you around.”

As you guide him through the factory, he’s like a kid in a candy store, eyes wide with wonder and curiosity. “This place is incredible,” he murmurs, running a hand along a piece of machinery.

You grin, pulling him towards the simulator room. “Wait until you see this.”

He steps inside, eyes immediately drawn to the impressive simulator setup. “Wow.”

You gesture for him to sit down, watching as he takes a seat, adjusting the settings. “Ready for your first sim run in the RB20?”

He nods eagerly, “Let’s do it.”

As he starts the simulation, you watch closely, monitoring the data and providing feedback. The two of you work seamlessly together, the connection between race engineer and driver already forming and growing.

After several runs, Charles steps out of the simulator, a huge grin on his face. “That was incredible! The car feels amazing.”

You smile. “I’m glad you think so. The team has put a lot of work into it.”

He pulls you into a hug, burying his face in your hair. “I can’t wait to get on track with you on the other side of the radio.”

You pull back, looking into his eyes. “Me too. We’re going to do great things together. I know it.”

He nods. “I know we will too.”

***

“I have to admit,” Charles says, eyes scanning the paddock, “I’m thankful that Mercedes and McLaren are between our motorhome and Ferrari’s. Makes things less ... awkward.”

You glance towards the distant red of the mobile Ferrari building, understanding the sentiment. “Must be weird being so close and yet so far.”

He nods, a hint of melancholy in his gaze as he looks at the place he called home for so long. “It’s bittersweet.”

Pulling him from his thoughts, you nudge him playfully. “Come on, Mr. Pole-Sitter. We have a race to prep for.”

Charles smirks, playfully rolling his eyes. “Always so professional, Miss Horner.”

You grin. “Only when it counts.”

The atmosphere in the Red Bull garage is electric. Mechanics and engineers hustle around, getting everything ready. The RB20 sits gleaming, waiting for its moment to shine.

Charles adjusts his gloves, taking a deep breath. “Feels different,” he admits, looking at you. “Being here, in this car, with this team. But a good kind of different.”

You lean in, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “You’ve got this. It’s just another race.”

He smiles. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one in the hot seat.”

“True, but I’ll be with you every step of the way. Just listen to my voice and trust me.”

“I always do.”

As he gets into the car, you lean in closer to his helmet, your lips touching it’s hard shell. “And Charles? Stay safe out there.”

He looks at you and winks. “I’ll come back to you.”

The race begins with a burst of energy. Charles takes off from pole, holding his position as the field jockeys for placement behind him.

“Good start,” you say through the radio, your voice calm and composed. “Keep it steady.”

“Copy.”

The race is intense, with Charles and Max battling for the lead, their cars dancing on the edge of perfection. The radio chatter between the two of you flows naturally, filled with technical details, strategy adjustments, and the occasional personal quip.

“Feeling the heat from Max?” You tease after a particularly close call between the two Red Bulls.

Charles laughs breathlessly. “Just keeping things interesting for the fans.”

The race continues at a blistering pace, with Charles and Max pushing each other to the limit. But through it all, Charles remains in the lead, with you guiding him from the pit wall.

“Final lap,” you inform. “Bring it home.”

He nods, pushing the car to its limit. The cheers of the crowd grow louder as he crosses the finish line, securing his first victory with Red Bull.

“Amazing job, Charles! I knew you could do it!”

He lets out a whoop of joy. “Yes! Thank you, team. Thank you, Y/N. I couldn’t have done it without you all.”

The two of you celebrate the victory, and as the rose water sprays and the cheers of the crowd fill the air, you know that this is just the beginning of an incredible journey together.

***

“You’re sure about the medium tyres, Y/N?” Charles asks nervously as he looks at the other cars lining up. “Everyone else is starting on softs.”

You nod confidently, tapping the race strategy on your clipboard. “Yes. The upside of using the mediums is it gives us flexibility. We can extend our first stint if needed, especially with possible rain on the forecast. While everyone else has to pit early for hards and then again for inters when the rain starts, we’ll only have to pit once. Trust me.”

He inhales deeply, trying to quell the unease bubbling inside. “I do trust you. It’s just ... Ferrari ... the strategies there ...”

“I know,” you interrupt softly, understanding the trauma and distrust years with Ferrari had instilled in him. “But this isn’t Ferrari. It’s Red Bull and we work differently. I’ve got your back.”

“Alright,” he looks into your eyes, finding assurance and conviction there, “let’s do this.”

The race begins, and Charles holds his ground well on the medium tyres, though the drivers running softs initially show quicker pace. But as predicted, the clouds soon darken and the threat of rain becomes increasingly evident.

“Stay focused,” you guide through the radio. “Remember the plan.”

He pushes on, expertly handling the streets of Monaco. The cars around him begin to lose grip and one by one they dive into the pits for hard tyres.

Charles keeps lapping. He moves up the order.

“You’re doing great,” you encourage. “Stick to the plan. We’re right on schedule.”

However, as the first raindrops begin to fall, panic sets in among the other teams on the grid. Those who just pitted for hard tyres are forced to pit again for intermediate tyres, losing precious time.

“Now,” you command, “Box this lap.”

He follows your instruction, driving into the pits, and with a flawless stop by his Red Bull crew, re-emerges in the lead.

The rain continues but Charles navigates the treacherous streets of Monaco expertly, maintaining his lead. When the chequered flag waves, it’s Charles who crosses the line first and finally claims victory at his home Grand Prix.

Tears of joy and relief pour from Charles’ eyes as he takes in the moment. “Thank you,” he says over the radio, voice choked with emotion. “I can’t believe it. We did it in Monaco!”

You smile, tears in your own eyes. “We did. I told you to trust me, didn’t I?”

He laughs, the sound full of pure joy. “You did. And I’m so glad I did. Thank you for everything.”

As he steps out of the car and jumps on its nose, arms spread wide, the crowd roars in approval, their prince finally crowned in his home race.

Then he rushes to the barriers and jumps into the cheering crowd of dark blue waiting for him. When his sweaty lips find yours surrounded by the celebrating Red Bull team, you take a moment to whisper a promise, “This is just the beginning. It will only get better from here.”

***

The season flies by in a blur of champagne showers. Heading into the Italian Grand Prix, Charles find himself leading the Drivers’ Championship with Max nipping at his heels.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” Charles confesses, staring out at the Autodromo Nazionale Monza. “This was home. I don’t know how they will react now that I’m no longer wearing red.”

You rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Many fans support the driver, not just the color he wears.”

He takes a deep breath and looks over the crowd. “The Tifosi are different. They bleed Ferrari red. I’m afraid they will see me only as a traitor.”

“You gave them your all,” you counter. “They’ve seen the struggles. They know why you left. They understand. Trust in them and in yourself.”

As the two of you make your way towards the paddock, the familiar chorus of cheers fills the air. But instead of the jeers and boos he feared, a chant begins to rise among the crowd of red: “Charles! Charles! Charles!”

Charles stops in his tracks. “They’re ... they’re cheering for me.”

You nod, a smile playing on your lips. “Told you.”

He’s soon swarmed by a group of fans, all clamoring for autographs, photos, and just a moment of his time. It’s clear that the bond between Charles and the Tifosi remains unbroken.

An older fan steps forward, his Ferrari cap worn with age. “You are still Il Predestinato. We wish it ended differently but we have eyes. We watched the races. We know why you left. No matter what team you drive for, you always have our hearts.”

Charles blinks back tears, deeply touched. “Grazie,” he whispers and claps the fan’s weathered hands in thanks.

Another fan, a young girl with a homemade sign that reads Once a Tifosi, Always a Tifosi, shyly approaches. “We still love you, Charles,” she says.

He kneels down to give her a gentle hug. “Thank you,” he murmurs, taking off his Red Bull cap and placing it on her head.

As the day goes on, the support from the Tifosi only grows. They cheer for him during practice, during qualifying, and every time he appears in front of the stands.

It’s clear that the bond between Charles and the Tifosi is as strong as ever.

That evening, as the two of you sit in the garage looking over data, Charles reflects on his day. “I was so afraid,” he admits. “Afraid of being rejected, of losing their love. But today ... today was incredible.”

You close the analytics. “The Tifosi love you. Not because of the car you drive or the colors you wear but because of who you are. Just like I do.”

He nods slowly. “It’s overwhelming. Monza has always been special to me. To feel this level of love and support ... it’s more than I ever expected.”

You lean closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “They see your passion. They see how much you give on and off the track. Anyone who does not love and respect you for that needs to reconsider.”

He exhales slowly, “I just ... I wanted to make them proud, to win for them in red and bring glory back to Maranello. But knowing they still support me no matter what ... it means everything.”

You look up into his eyes. “And they always will. Because they know you always gave and will continue to give your best. They love you because they are loved in return.”

He laughs, pulling you into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. “For always being my rock, especially in moments like these.”

“Now let’s go out there tomorrow and win.”

***

“Vegas, baby!” Charles shouts, swinging an arm around your shoulders, both of you holding champagne glasses that have been refilled one too many times.

You giggle, distinctly feeling all of the alcohol you’ve consumed. “We won! We did it!”

Charles laughs, pulling you closer. “We did! And do you know what people do when they’re in love and win in Vegas?”

You think about it for a moment, a mischievous glint appearing in your eyes. “Get ... married?”

Charles nods enthusiastically. “Exactly! Y/N Horner, will you marry me tonight?”

You don’t hesitate, “Hell yes!”

The two of you, in your drunken stupor, begin your mission to find a wedding chapel. However, before you can get very far, Max spots you and quickly catches on to what you’re planning.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Max exclaims, grabbing Charles by the shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going with Y/N?”

Charles replies with a sloppy grin, “To make her Mrs. Leclerc!”

Max bursts into laughter, trying to play the voice of reason. “Mate, as much fun as that sounds, I think you might want to sleep on that idea.”

But you’re not having it. “No, Max! We’re in love and it’s Vegas. We’re doing it!”

Before the conversation can escalate further, your father joins the fray, looking both amused and concerned. “What on earth is going on here?”

Max chuckles, “Your daughter and Charles here have some ... ambitious plans for the evening.”

You pout and stumble slightly, “Daddy, we want to get married! Right now!”

Your father’s eyebrows shoot up. “Married? Tonight? Seriously?”

Charles nods with absolute seriousness, though his precarious swaying contradicts his tone. “Christian, I love your daughter. And we won. In Vegas. So ... wedding?”

Your father places a firm hand on his driver’s shoulder. “Listen, Charles, I have no doubt about your feelings for Y/N. But my baby girl deserves the world. When and if you ever decide to propose, I expect you to get down on one knee, stone-cold sober, and ask her properly.”

Charles blinks, processing the words. “But ... Vegas?”

You laugh and go to hug your father, almost falling over in the process. “He’s right. Let’s just enjoy tonight. And if we still feel like getting married in the morning, we can discuss it then.”

Max smirks, “Trust me, you’ll thank us in the morning. If you can even remember this conversation, that is.”

***

“Charles,” you begin, your voice echoing in his helmet, “The team has made the call. You and Max are free to race. No team orders.”

There’s a pause on the other end. “Understood. May the best man win.”

The tension in the garage skyrockets as soon as the lights go out. It’s evident that this is going to be an epic battle from the very first turn. Max and Charles swap places multiple times, pushing their cars to the very edge of their limits.

“Breathe,” you remind him calmly as the laps go by, “Don’t loose sight of the race as a whole. There’s a championship at stake.”

The entire race is a blur of overtakes, pit strategies, and nail-biting moments. The two Red Bull cars battle wheel-to-wheel lap after lap. One side of the garage against the other.

Coming into the final laps, Charles is right on Max’s tail — the championship hanging in the balance between them.

You know there’s not much you can do to guide him anymore … it’s all up to Charles.

“Last lap,” you try to sound composed despite the pounding of your heart. “You can do this.”

The cheers and gasps of the crowd are deafening as Charles makes his move, taking the inside line and overtaking Max on the penultimate turn.

“Push now! Just a few more corners.”

As Charles crosses the finish line, the enormity of the moment crashes over both of you.

“Charles Leclerc,” you scream over the radio as tears stream down your face, “you are the World Champion!”

“Yeeeesssss! Yes! Yes! I ... I can’t believe it. This is ... thank you, everyone. To the entire Red Bull team, you’ve given me the chance to chase and achieve my dreams. To my friends, my family, to every single person who’s been by my side, believed in me, and supported me … thank you. And Y/N, you’ve been my rock and my oxygen. Without you, this wouldn’t have been possible. Thank you! Thank you. Thank you so much!”

***

“Whew! That was a lot of rose water!” Charles laughs, wiping the bubbly liquid from his eyes.

You chuckle and try to wring out your hair. “You didn’t have to drench me, you know!”

Charles grins cheekily. “It’s a special occasion, after all. Both of us on this podium? It’s a dream!”

Then suddenly, he turns serious and signals to his brother in the crowd below, who throws him a small leather box. Charles catches it and promptly lowers himself down on one knee in front of you, making the crowd fall into a stunned silence.

“I tried this in Vegas,” he starts with a laugh, “But I might have been too drunk and missed a few pretty important steps.”

Charles takes a deep breath and his eyes lock onto yours, saying everything that words would never be sufficient to. “Y/N, being on this podium with you, winning the World Championship, it’s the pinnacle of my career. But what we have ... it’s the pinnacle of my life. I can’t imagine going on this journey with anyone else, facing the highs, the lows, the in-betweens. Will you marry me?”

Tears flow steadily down your cheeks and you nod with a fervor that would make bobbleheads jealous, “Yes! There’s no one else I’d want to spend forever with.”

The crowd erupts into cheers and applause, the deafening roar echoing around the Yas Marina Circuit. Max gives a loud whistle, his face lit up with a big grin next to you on the podium stage.

Charles rises to his feet and pulls you close, attacking your lips as the crowd goes wild.

“Promise me we won’t head to a chapel right after this race?” You joke, sniffling and giggling at the same time.

Charles laughs, looking slightly sheepish. “I promise, mainly because I’m too young to die and your father would definitely kill me if I even thought about pulling the stunt we tried in Vegas again. You deserve a fairytale wedding.”

You press your face against his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat as fireworks explode overhead. “All I need for my fairytale is you.”

[gojoluvs]

Forever yours

⤿ Satoru Gojo x reader

Summary, The only reason why you even agreed to marry him was for your father. Now you wish you could go back in time and reject the offer.

Warning/ tags; angst, profanity, smoking, cursing, smut, cheating, mean gojo, emotional trauma, manipulation, gaslighting.

Genre; angst, cheating, infidelity, jik, Gojou x reader. Arranged marriage au! very ooc Gojo, Mean Gojo! CEO Gojo!

Notes: the tag-list is closed!! Ive reached the limit to tag anyone else :c. also sorry for the spelling errors / didn't catch :(

12k words

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Satoru sat across from his father, nervously fidgeting in his seat.

His father's stern gaze made him feel like a child again, and he was afraid of what was to come.

You, sitting next to him, could feel his tension radiating off of him. Your own emotions were mixed - anger, betrayal, and hurt all bubbling inside of you. But you did your best to remain calm and composed, even though the sight of your husband made your blood boil.

Placing a hand on your thigh, your husband's touch made you flinch. You quickly smacked his hand away, avoiding any contact with him. You made eye contact with him, your eyes displaying disgust and anger. How could he still try to touch you after what he did?

Smiling at his father, you tried to put on a facade of normalcy. You couldn't let his family know the truth about his infidelity. You grabbed a fork, trying to keep your hands busy and avoid any more unwanted physical contact.

But his father didn't seem to notice the tension between you and your husband. "So Y/N, how's my son treating you?" he asked with a smile. For a split second, your eyes traveled to your husband, who looked like he was going through it.

His eyebags were noticeably darker than before and his hair was a mess. It was clear that he was not doing well since you found out about his affair.

You hadn't been talking to him, sleeping in the guest bedroom ever since you caught him in the office with his lover. Memories of how heartbroken you were resurfaced, your stomach churning at the thought. You couldn't even look at him without feeling a mix of anger, hurt, and betrayal.

It was difficult being in the same room as your husband, knowing what he had done. You couldn't stand the sight of him, yet you had to put on a brave face for his family. It was exhausting, but you were determined to keep up appearances and not let anyone know the truth.

You smiled at his father, "Mm, he's been treating me okay," you said, stabbing the meat on your plate with your fork. You glanced over at Satoru, trying to gauge his reaction. His jawline was visibly tense, and his eyes refused to meet yours.

"Just okay? I expected him to treat you like royalty," his father chuckled, a knowing glint in his eye. You felt a nervous flutter in your stomach, unsure of how to respond.

But before you could say anything, Satoru's pleading look caught your attention. It was a look you had never seen before, and for a brief moment, you felt a twinge of pity.

But you quickly pushed it aside, determined not to let Satoru's pleading sway you. "He's doing just fine," you said, your tone firm. You reached for your glass of wine, taking a sip and letting the exquisite taste wash over your tongue. The wine was smooth and rich, a perfect complement to the delicious meal.

"I'm surprised you haven't produced an heir yet, any reason why?" His father said, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Satoru. The wrinkles on his forehead seemed to pop out more in his disapproval.

You, dressed in a stunning black mermaid evening dress with a white bottom hem, glanced at your husband who was wearing a simple black suit.

His hair was slightly messy from the argument you both had before coming to the event.

“There should be one soon," you replied with a forced smile, trying to change the subject.

You knew your husband was struggling, both emotionally and physically, but you couldn't bring yourself to comfort him. The tension between the two of you was palpable, and the constant arguing was taking its toll on both of you.

You glanced over at Satoru, his face pale and gaunt, his eyes filled with exhaustion and sadness. He looked like an absolute mess, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for him. But at the same time, you couldn't forgive him for what he did. You had been fighting for days about his affair with his lover, Jiyuu. The betrayal and hurt were still fresh in your mind.

As you took a bite of your food, you couldn't help but feel a sense of numbness. You had been going through daily treatments with Shoko, trying to conceive a child for the past few weeks. But you couldn't bring yourself to be intimate with Satoru anymore. The trust between you had been shattered, and you couldn't forget the pain he had caused you.

Despite his constant pleas and apologies, you had both agreed on getting a divorce after having his child. It was fulfilling his father's last wish and finally being able to be free from this broken marriage.

As you sat there in silence, you knew that this was the end of your relationship. The only thing holding you together now was the promise of a child, but even that couldn't repair the damage that had been done.

You had been trying to have a serious conversation with him for days now, but he seemed to always be lost in his own thoughts. He had been distant lately, always staying up late at night and drinking alone in the kitchen.

You couldn't help but wonder if he was having nightmares again. You knew he had been struggling with them for a while now, but he never wanted to talk about it. You wanted to help him, but it was hard to do so when you felt like he didn't even care about you anymore.

Your mind drifted back to the day you found out about his affair with his secretary. You were at the doctor's office, heart broken at the news when you saw them together. Your heart shattered into a million pieces as you realized that he didn't care about your feelings or your marriage.

You knew he was going through a lot, but at the same time, you couldn't shake off the resentment and betrayal you felt towards him. You were going to speak up, to finally confront him about everything, but then you stopped yourself. Why should you even care? He certainly didn't care about your feelings when he was cheating on you.

However, Satoru's stepmother chimed in, clearing her throat to get everyone's attention.

"Well, my son Yuta will be graduating high school soon, would you both perhaps like to attend the ceremony?" Satoru's stepmother beamed at you, her hand gently caressing her son's cheek as he sat next to her.

The boy was young, with slight eyebags, but definitely took after his mother. You could see the resemblance in their features and the way they both smiled. Before you could even respond, Satoru cut you off, his voice dripping with anger.

"We're not going to fucking attend a random's graduation," he spat, slamming his fork down on the table. You turned to look at him, taken aback by his sudden outburst.

"Why not?" his stepmother asked, her smile fading.

"Because it's pointless," Satoru retorted, his tone harsh. "I don't care about some kid I barely know graduating. And neither should you, Y/N.”

Satoru's words hung in the air, filled with resentment and anger towards his father and his new family. You could sense the tension in the room and felt uncomfortable being caught in the middle of it.

This was not the first time Satoru had expressed his dislike for his stepmother and her son, and it was clear he resented his father for moving on and starting a new family while neglecting his own son.

"Watch your language Satoru," his father scolded, his tone sharp and his eyes narrowed in disapproval. The tension in the air was thick and uncomfortable, making Satoru squirm in his seat. He could feel his father's disappointment like a weight on his shoulders, and it only fueled his anger.

"No, I don't understand why you want us to come to your stepson's graduation when you never even attended mine," Satoru's jaw clenched and his eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

"You never cared about me or mom and now you want to become a loving father for a kid who's not even yours?" He scoffed, the bitterness evident in his voice. "It's all for show, isn't it? Trying to make yourself look like a good father when you never gave a damn about me."

His father's expression hardened, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Don't you dare talk to me like that, boy."

"Why not? It's the truth," Satoru shot back, his voice rising in anger. "You never cared about me, and now you want me to pretend like we're a happy family? I'm tired of this charade."

"You will attend the graduation and show your brother the respect he deserves," his father's tone was cold and authoritative. "Or else."

Satoru let out a bitter laugh. "Or else what? You'll disown me like you did before? I don't give a damn about you or your new family. I won't be a part of your lies anymore." He stood up, his hands trembling with anger.

"You ungrateful brat," his father spat, his face turning red with rage. "I should have never taken you in. You're just like your mother, always causing trouble."

Satoru's fists clenched at his sides, his whole body shaking with rage. "I'm nothing like her. And I never want to see you or your sorry excuse for a family again." With that, he stormed out of the room, leaving his father speechless and seething with anger.

His father stood up, throwing his napkin on the table he followed Satoru. You sat there in disbelief in what just happened. His stepmother, also having the same face as you.

Sitting in silence you could hear your husband argue with his father, swallowing heavily you got up. “Im sorry,” You grabbed your purse and Satoru’s phone, pushing the seat back in the step mom followed you out to the hallway. You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to find your husband who was nowhere to be seen.

Your heart ached for him after what he said to his father. He looked like he was about to break down and this wasn’t making it any better. You jolted in surprise as satoru’s stepmother stood in front of you, a look if pity in her face.

"Let them talk, please," she said calmly, her eyes softening as she pulled your arm towards a nearby room. You followed her, feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity.

She slammed the door behind you, shutting out the sound of the ongoing argument in the other room. You could still hear muffled voices, but they sounded distant now. The woman quickly made her way to a cabinet, her hands moving frantically as she searched for something.

You stood there, unsure of what to do or say. Suddenly, the arguing stopped and everything went silent. The woman turned to face you, holding a small and soft box in her hands. It was shaped like a rectangle and looked delicate.

She walked towards you, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. "I want you to have this," she said, her voice gentle yet determined.

You stood in the doorway, unsure of what to do or say. You stared back at Satoru's stepmom, her eyes filled with a mix of sadness and hope. She extended the box towards you, her hand trembling slightly.

You could feel the weight of the box in your hand as she placed it gently in your palm. The soft material of the box felt cool against your skin. You couldn't help but feel confused as to why she was giving you a random box. But her words echoed in your mind, "Please, open it."

As you slowly opened the box, your eyes widened in amazement. Inside was the most beautiful pearl necklace you had ever seen. The lustrous pearls reflected the light of the room, creating a mesmerizing effect. For a brief moment, you forgot about everything else as you stared at the necklace in awe.

You looked back up at Satoru's stepmom, wanting to ask her why she was giving them to you. But before you could say anything, she spoke. "I want you to have them," she said, her voice filled with emotion.

You looked back up at Satoru's stepmother, who was now looking at you with tears in her eyes. "These were Satoru's birth mother's pearls," she explained, her voice shaking with emotion. "I want you to have them." You were taken aback by her words and felt a lump form in your throat.

Without another thought, you extended your arms towards her, offering to return the necklace. But she shook her head, her tears now falling freely. "I couldn't possibly," you said, your voice cracking. You looked at her, unsure of what to do.

She sighed, her eyes filled with guilt as she spoke. "I used to be one of her best friends," she said, her voice strained with emotion. "And every time I see you," she paused, taking a step closer and placing a hand on your cheek, "you just remind me of her so much." Her eyes brimmed with tears, her voice breaking with each word.

You were utterly confused. He married his ex-wife's best friend? Slowly, you began walking towards the door, trying to process everything that was being said. Her comment still lingered in your mind - just like Satoru's mother? What did that mean?

As you reached for the doorknob, you couldn't help but feel a wave of confusion wash over you. What the hell was this lady talking about? Who was Satoru's mother and what did she have to do with you? You couldn't wrap your head around it, but one thing was for sure - something was definitely off about this situation.

You opened the door, shoving the pearl necklace into your purse, not caring if the stepmother followed you. The tension between the two of you had reached its breaking point, and you just wanted to escape. As you walked through the house, you noticed how quiet it was.

Your heart started to race as you called out for your husband, Satoru. But there was no response.

Your mind started to race with worry as you frantically searched every corner of the house, your anxiety growing with each passing moment. Where could he be? Panic started to rise in your chest as you thought about all the possibilities. You wanted to go home, to your own safe haven where everything was familiar.

As you placed a hand on your head, you felt a wave of exhaustion wash over you. The stress and fear were taking a toll on your body, and you wanted nothing more than to curl up in your own bed. But as you furrowed your brow in pain, you realized that you might not make it home.

You wanted to throw up badly, the overwhelming emotions and physical symptoms becoming too much to handle. You were desperate for answers, for your husband to appear and make everything okay.

But for now, all you could do was try to hold it together and wait for him to return.

As you walked towards the end of the hall, you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over you. You turned around to see Satoru, your husband, pinned to the wall by his father. His father had a tight grip on the collar of his shirt, and Satoru's face was covered in blood. His hair was a mess and his clothes were torn.

Your heart raced as you saw the rage on his father's face. This was something you had never seen before. You could hear Satoru's strained breathing as his father continued to yell at him. Without a second thought, you sprinted towards them, pushing his father off of Satoru.

Your eyes narrowed at his father, your own anger rising. You turned to Satoru, who was slumped against the wall, unable to even hold his head up.

His eyes were unfocused and his breathing was shallow. Your hands trembled as you reached for his face, lifting it gently to make eye contact with his blue eyes that were void of any emotion.

You could see the pain and exhaustion in his face, and your heart broke for him. You wiped away some of the blood from his mouth with your thumb, the sight making tears prick at your eyes. "Are you okay?" you asked, your voice trembling with worry. You wanted nothing more than to take away his pain and make everything right again.

He didn't respond at first, his eyes still distant and void of emotion. But then, he slowly nodded his head, his voice barely above a whisper, "I'm fine."

As you held Satoru's face in your hands, you could see the pain and fear in his eyes. His father had always been strict, but you had never seen him act with such violence towards his own son. "What did you do to him?" you demanded, turning to face the man who had raised your husband.

"He disrespected me and our family name," his father growled, his eyes still filled with anger. "He needs to learn his place."

"He disrespected you?" you scoffed. "You're the one who's been disrespecting him for years. Treating him like he's nothing."

His father's face twisted into a sneer. "You don't understand. He's a disgrace to our family name. He's weak and worthless. He deserves to be taught a lesson."

You bristled at his words, feeling your own anger rise. "How can you say that about your own son? He's your flesh and blood, and you treat him like he's nothing. It's no wonder he's become distant and withdrawn."

His father's eyes flashed with fury. "He's a failure, just like his mother. I won't have him dragging our family name through the mud.

"You're the one who's dragging it through the mud," you retorted, stepping between him and Satoru's form. "You're the one who's so consumed with pride and tradition that you can't see the pain you're causing your own son."

"You will not speak to me that way," his father growled, his hand raised threateningly.

"I will speak to you however I see fit," you replied, your voice shaking with anger. You grabbed your husband making your way out of the house.

You grabbed the small cotton ball from the first aid kit and carefully dabbed it with alcohol, making sure to disinfect it before bringing it up to your husband's cut lip.

He winced and hissed in pain as you gently dabbed the wound, his breathing becoming more labored. His shirt was nowhere to be seen, most likely discarded in a fit of frustration or ripped in the heat of the moment.

You rolled your eyes at his overreaction and continued to clean the cut. Your husband stared at you, his intense blue eyes practically piercing your soul. The bathroom light shone on his face, making his features stand out even more as he sat on the counter, towering over you.

Despite the tension and discomfort, you couldn't help but appreciate his handsome features and the way his eyes softened as he looked at you.

His eyes scanned your face, taking in every detail with a mix of pain and regret. His chest rose and fell with each labored breath, and his voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke.

"I'm sorry," he said, his eyes still locked on yours. You couldn't help but scoff at his words, feeling a surge of anger and frustration rise within you.

"Why are you apologizing?" you asked, your voice laced with bitterness. Despite your feelings, you couldn't help but reach for the wet towel and dab at the blood stains on his pale skin. He looked like a mess, his hair disheveled and his face bruised.

"Y/N," he said, his voice trailing off as he reached for your hand. Your heart skipped a beat at his touch, his warm fingers wrapping around your arm.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, his grip on your waist tightening. "You know I hate you and yet you still try to make this marriage work."

You narrowed your eyes at him, feeling a mix of anger and confusion. "I don't know," you admitted, your voice softening as you met his gaze. "Can you please stop moving before I give you another bruise?"

He nodded, a small smile curling onto his lips as he allowed you to tend to his wounds. His eyes never left yours, and for a moment, you both were lost in each other's gaze.

As you pushed his white hair back and rubbed the blood off his face, you couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity and longing. Despite everything, there was still a part of you that cared for him, that wanted things to work out between you.

"Thank you," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "For taking care of me, even though I don't deserve it."

You swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in your throat. "I'm doing it because it's my job," you replied, trying to sound cold and distant. But deep down, you knew it was more than that.

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "No, you're doing it because you still care," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You pulled away, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. "I don't care," you said, your voice betraying you.

He chuckled softly, his hand still resting on your waist. "You can keep telling yourself that, but we both know the truth."

You didn't know how to respond to his question, so you just focused on cleaning his wounds.

The room was quiet except for the sound of the running water and your gentle movements as you tended to his injuries. You tried to ignore the way his touch was making you feel, but it was difficult as his eyes were soft and his lips pursed into a thin line, flinching with every dab of alcohol you put on his cuts.

As you worked, you couldn't help but notice that his body was slightly bruised up, but there were no cuts except on his face. His lips had a gash and the top of his eyebrow was also cut. You furrowed your eyebrows in concern, wondering what could have caused such injuries.

You continued to clean his wounds, your fingers gently tracing over his skin as you wiped away the blood. His breathing became harder and you could feel his fingers clenching your waist. You couldn't help but feel a sense of protectiveness towards him, wanting to ease his pain and make him feel better.

As you stood there in the dimly lit room, you could feel the weight of his body leaning onto you. His warm breath tickled your neck as he let out a heavy sigh, his forehead resting against your shoulder.

You couldn't help but notice the familiar scent of your perfume filling his nostrils, a scent he had always loved. You were taken aback by his sudden vulnerability, but you kept your composure and gently placed the wet towel onto your thighs before wrapping your arms around him.

Caressing his back you could feel the tension in his body slowly dissipating. His breathing became more steady and you could hear his staggered breaths. "I don't hate you Satou," you whispered softly, trying to reassure him.

"And I hate that I can't bring myself to hate you." You could feel his grip on you tighten as he leaned into your embrace.

Placing your arms on his head, you brought his face to yours. You could see the exhaustion and pain in his eyes, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him.

"Even though you might be killing me," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper, "I still find myself waiting for you." You gently placed your palms on his cheeks, squishing his soft and pale skin between your fingers.

His eyes wandered all over your face, taking in every feature as if he wanted to remember every detail. You could see the guilt and remorse in his eyes, and it made your heart ache.

He swallowed heavily, his adams apple jolting with the movement. "I'm so fucking sorry, Y/N," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. Tears glistened in his eyes and his nose turned bright red, a sign that he was truly upset.

But you couldn't accept his apology, not after everything he had put you through. You lowered your gaze, grabbing a towel and gently dabbing it onto his bruised and cut face. He winced slightly at your touch, but you continued to tend to his injuries. It was a familiar routine, one that had become all too common in your arranged marriage.

But today was different. Today, he had finally shown some remorse for his actions. And yet, it was too little too late.

You had already made up your mind to ask for a divorce, tired of living in a loveless and abusive marriage. "I'm not going to accept your apology, Satoru," you said firmly, your voice tinged with sadness. You said softly, your eyes meeting his. "I can't keep living like this. I deserve better."

He watched you with his mouth closed, not saying a single word to you but rather admiring you under the bathroom light.

As you finished cleaning his face, you couldn't help but comment on his appearance. "Have you been sleeping? You look like shit," you said, worry evident in your tone.

You grabbed the towel, rinsing it and squeezing the blood off before using it to wipe his face one last time.

He sighed and backed away from you, taking the towel from your grip. He brought it up to his face and rubbed it, his face now cleaner than before. You couldn't help but notice the tension in his jaw as he watched you, and you wondered what was going through his mind.

“Yes,” He said sighing he backed up from you, taking the towel away from your grip. He brought it up to his face and rubbed it, his face cleaner than before.

His usually bright eyes were now dull and his usually perfect hair was disheveled. You couldn't let this continue, so you decided to confront him about it.

"Bullshit Satoru, I can see your eyebags getting worse everyday," you said firmly, propping yourself off the sink and approaching him. He followed you silently into your bedroom, looking slightly guilty.

You walked over to his closet and slowly opened the door, revealing a small room filled with his clothes and belongings. You reached in and pulled out one of his sleeping t-shirts, knowing it would be more comfortable for him. Turning off the lights and closing the door, you handed him the shirt.

But as you expected, he hesitated. "I can't put it on, my arms are kinda messed up right now," he said, giving you an awkward smile. You rolled your eyes and instructed him to put his hands up. With gentle and steady movements, you helped him put on the shirt, making sure not to cause him any pain.

Walking towards the door of the guest bedroom, your husband Satoru's voice stopped you in your tracks. You turned to look at him, his body already tucked under the covers and his face still bruised from the fight earlier.

Despite his injuries, he still managed to look cute, and you couldn't help but feel conflicted. "Goodnight Satoru," you said, trying to hide the hurt in your voice as you grabbed your nightgown from the other side of the bed.

But something in your husband's brain was telling him not to let you go just yet. "Y/N, wait," he called out softly, his hand reaching out towards you.

You hesitated, your hand on the doorknob, as you looked at him with a mix of emotions. "Please, sleep with me tonight," he pleaded, his voice filled with longing.

You scoffed, feeling a mix of anger and sadness at his request, but before you could open the door and leave, he spoke again. "I can only sleep when I know you're with me, so please," he begged, his voice slightly louder this time.

You let out a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of exhaustion and stress from the day. As you removed your dress, your hand instinctively went to your forehead, trying to massage away the tension. You changed into your comfortable nightgown and made your way to the bed, grateful for the warm and inviting covers waiting for you. Your husband, who had been sitting on the bed, gazed at you with concern in his eyes. You climbed into bed, facing him and oddly finding comfort in his presence.

You traced your finger gently over the cut on his cheek, a reminder of the fight he had with his father, and felt a rush of emotions flood through you. Despite the arranged marriage and the supposed hate between the two of you, there was an undeniable chemistry and attraction that simmered between your bodies.

Satoru's hand rested on your waist, his thumb gently caressing your skin, as he leaned in closer to you. You could feel his warm breath on your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

Without hesitation, you placed your hand on his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble against your palm. As your fingers traced his lips, he let out a low hiss, his eyes filled with hurt.

You could feel his warm breath on your neck as he nuzzled closer, his arms wrapping tightly around you. The scent of his cologne filled your senses, as you ran your fingers through his soft, white hair.

You could feel his heart beating against your chest, matching the rhythm of your own. “Goodnight toru,” You hugged him back just as tightly, cherishing this intimate moment between the two of you.

“Goodnight Y/N,” He mumbled his voice muffled against the skin of your neck.

The moon light shined against your face, his body deep into yours. You wanted to get up and leave once he fell asleep but for some reason you found yourself comforting him as he slept. Caressing his hair and tracing circles onto his back.

That familiar warmth of his filling your body. Waiting for a few minutes for him to fall asleep, you could hear that familiar sound of his breathing. The small snores coming from your husband, his breath calm.

The moonlight cast a peaceful glow on your husband's face as you lay in bed together. His body was intertwined with yours, and for a moment, you felt content.

But as his breathing slowed and he drifted off to sleep, you knew that this was just a temporary moment of comfort. You wanted to get up and leave, as you had done countless times before, but something held you back.

You gently stroked his hair and traced circles on his back, you couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness. You knew that once he woke up, he would go back to treating you with coldness and indifference. But for now, in this moment, you could pretend that everything was okay.

As you tried to get up from the bed, his grip tightened around you. "Don't go," he mumbled in his sleep. You froze, not knowing how to respond. He hated you, or at least that's what he had made you believe. But in this moment, as he held you close, it seemed like maybe there was a small part of him that cared.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, things could change between the two of you. But for now, you would stay by his side, basking in the warmth of his body and the sound of his breathing, hoping that this moment would never end.

"Why do you do this to me?" you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. He stirred, his eyes opening slightly as he looked at you with a mix of confusion and hurt.

"I don't understand why you treat me this way," you continued, tears welling up in your eyes. "I want to hate you, but I can't. And it's killing me."

He didn't say anything, but his grip on you tightened even more, pulling you closer to him. You could feel his heart beating against your chest, and in that moment, you knew that he felt something for you, even if he couldn't admit it.

"I'm sorry," he finally whispered, his voice barely audible. "I don't know how to be any different."

He didn't say anything, but his grip on you tightened even more, pulling you closer to him. You could feel his heart beating against your chest, and in that moment, you knew that he felt something for you, even if he couldn't admit it.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness and longing as you looked at him, knowing that he hated you but also knowing that there was a part of him that was starting to love you. It was a complicated and painful situation, but you couldn't deny the feelings that were growing inside of you.

"I wish things were different," you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion. "I wish you could love me the way Im starting to love you."

He didn't respond, but you could see the pain in his eyes as he looked at you. You both knew that the situation was complicated and that there were no easy solutions. But in that moment, you felt a sense of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for the two of you to find a way to make it work.

Jiyuu couldn't help but giggle as she leaned in closer to the worker, placing her hand on his arm.

She couldn't help but notice how defined his muscles were, even though he was wearing a long sleeve shirt. She could practically see every contour and ripple of his muscles.

"Can you please ring that up for me?" She pouted her lips, giving him a flirtatious smile. The worker looked flustered but nodded quickly, taking the gorgeous chanel dress to the front of the store.

As she waited, Jiyuu sipped on the complimentary champagne, enjoying the luxurious atmosphere of the high-end boutique. Her heels clicked on the shiny marble floor as she browsed through racks of designer clothing, feeling like a celebrity.

She walked towards the cashier of the store, feeling a pang of jealousy and annoyance. Her friend, who was browsing through the coats, noticed her expression and raised an eyebrow.

"You know, I still can't comprehend how my Satoru is still with that bitch Y/N," she muttered, tilting her head to get a better look at her friend.

Her friend let out a giggle and said, "Maybe he's falling for her." She then proceeded to try on a coat and check herself out in the mirror. "And all your hard work to seduce him would have been for nothing."

Jiyuu rolled her eyes and grabbed a pair of shoes, calling for the worker to ring them up as well. "That's not funny," she bit her lip in frustration.

Ever since you caught Satoru and her together in the office, he had been acting distant and cold towards her. It was as if he was slipping away from her grasp.

"She can't even give him a child, meanwhile I'm here waiting for him to leave her," Jiyuu sighed, her frustration growing. Her friend could barely hold back her laughter at the situation.

As she paid for her items, Jiyuu couldn't help but feel anxious and worried about her relationship with Satoru. She knew she had to do something soon before it was too late.

The two women made their way through the busy streets of the city, the warm sun shining down on their faces. As they walked, they chatted about the latest gossip and news in their social circles. Suddenly, Jiyuu's friend turned to her with a sly smile.

"You know, if he does leave you. Why don't you just go for Y/N's ex?" she suggested. "I heard he's a well-known CEO...and quite the catch."

Jiyuu's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Is that so?" she replied, her tone dripping with interest. Her friend nodded, her own excitement evident.

"There's going to be an event here tonight and I heard all the big names from Tokyo will be there. Including him."

"Do you know where?" she asked eagerly, her pace quickening. Her friend pulled out her phone and checked the event details.

Jiyuu's friend nodded, her eyes scanning the street for any familiar faces. "Yeah, it's at the Mori Art Museum in Roppongi. You should come with me, we can scope out the competition and maybe even catch a glimpse of the elusive ex-boyfriend."

Jiyuu's heart raced with excitement at the thought of seeing her ex again, and potentially getting revenge by getting close to his rival

Jiyuu's heels clicked on the luxurious floor, a cup of wine in her hand. Her long brown hair was perfectly curled, cascading down her back. She wore a beautiful silk green dress and had recently splurged on a pair of Chanel heels, which adorned her feet with elegance.

As she walked through the art gallery, Jiyuu couldn't help but feel like all eyes were on her. She was the center of attention, the star of the show. She smiled and greeted everyone she passed, her eyes frantically searching for any sign of Toji or Satoru.

Taking a sip of her expensive wine, Jiyuu savored the taste and relished in the fact that only the wealthy could afford such a luxury at an art gallery. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and made her way towards her friend, who was wearing a stunning dark blue gown.

"Jiyuu!" her friend exclaimed, pulling her into a tight hug. "You look absolutely gorgeous tonight." She stepped back, admiring Jiyuu's outfit. "I mean, you always look gorgeous, but tonight you're on a whole other level."

Jiyuu laughed and thanked her friend, feeling a sense of pride and satisfaction at her appearance. But just as quickly, her friend's expression turned serious.

She turned around, as she pulled a man by her side, meeting he sight of a tall and broad-shouldered man. Her heart started to race as she fully took in his appearance - the dark, intense eyes that seemed to be staring right at her.

“Toji, meet Jiyuu, a friend of mine," her friend said with a smile before leaving the two of them alone to chat.

Jiyuu couldn't help but notice the scar on his lips, the way his black hair fell slightly in his face, and the overall intense aura he exuded. She couldn't deny it - he was undeniably hot. He smirked at her and grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

"Nice to meet you, Jiyuu," his deep, husky voice sent shivers down her spine as his adam's apple bobbed up and down with each word.

He was dressed in a sharp black tuxedo that showed off his well-built body. He practically towered over Jiyuu, making her feel small in comparison. "Nice to meet you too," she managed to say with a smile, unable to tear her gaze away from him.

As she finished her wine and placed the glass on a passing server's tray, she couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement at the thought of getting to know this intriguing man.

She cleared her throat and followed him around the gallery, her eyes scanning the various pieces of art. She couldn't help but feel a bit confused by some of them. "What do you think?" she asked, turning to look at his puzzled expression.

He looked absolutely baffled, as if he didn't know what was going on. "To be quite honest, it's a bit...shit," he said, turning to look at her with a slight smile on his face.

She couldn't help but giggle at his honesty. "It's okay if you don't know art that well," she reassured him, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards another painting. It was practically identical to the one they had just seen.

"This one's good, no?" she asked, batting her eyelashes at him. He stood there with his hands in his pockets, looking unimpressed. "No," he replied bluntly.

She couldn't contain her laughter as she led him to the next painting, already anticipating his reaction. It was a similar style to the first two, but she couldn't help but admire it. "What do you think of this one?" she asked, hoping he would appreciate it more than the others.

He looked at it for a few moments before finally nodding his head in approval. "I actually like this one," he admitted, surprising her.

As they continued to make their way through the gallery, she couldn't help but enjoy his honest and sometimes humorous commentary on the art. Despite their differing opinions, she was glad to have someone to share the experience with.

They sat down at the bar, ordering drinks and continuing their conversation. Jiyuu mentioned how she worked as a secretary and Toji talked about his job in finance. They both shared their dreams and aspirations, and Jiyuu couldn't help but feel drawn to Toji's passion and drive.

“You’re quite the comedian aren’t you?” She smiled sipping on her drink.

"I'm glad I can make you laugh," Toji replied, taking a sip of his drink. "It's just my way of making this stuffy art gallery a little more bearable."

Jiyuu laughed again, leaning against the bar. "Well, I appreciate it. I don't think I could have made it through this exhibit without you."

She stared at Toji her eyes scanning all over the mans fave and body. She felt goosebumps just by the way he was looking at her, like if she was his prey. “So what do you want in life Toji?”

Toji chuckled, looking down at his drink. " I think someone to share it with. Someone who's kind, loving, and understanding."

Jiyuu's heart skipped a beat as she saw an opportunity to make her move. "Well, I can definitely relate to that. I just want a loving husband who I can share my life with."

Toji's eyes met hers, a spark of interest in them. "Is that so? Well, I think we may have more in common than I thought."

Jiyuu smiled, feeling a sense of triumph. She knew she had Toji's attention now.

"Well, I do have a way with words," Toji replied, his mischievous smile never fading. "But I have to say, you're not so bad yourself."

She placed her hand on his arm, giving him a flirtatious smile. "Well, I can be that wife for you," she purred, hoping to spark some interest in him.

Toji chuckled, gently removing her hand from his arm. "As flattering as that is, Jiyuu, I think I'm just fine being single for now. But I appreciate the offer."

Jiyuu's smile faltered, but she quickly recovered and continued to flirt with him. As the night went on, she couldn't help but feel a bit guilty for using Toji in her plan to seduce him. But she pushed those thoughts aside, reminding herself that this was all for her own happiness.

And if Toji ended up being a part of that happiness, then it would all be worth it.

Just in the other side of the art gallery you had walked out of your car, your hand resting on Satoru’s arm. You were dressed in an exclusive Chanel 94' blue flowy dress, your hair styled up in a beautiful updo that perfectly complemented your outfit.

Satoru, your husband, walked beside you, his hand resting on your arm. Despite the obvious cut on his lip from the fight two days ago, he still looked dashing in his classic yet stylish suit. As you approached the front of the gallery, you could feel the stares and whispers of the people around you, admiring your elegant appearance.

Climbing up the stairs, you gripped onto Satoru's arm for support, not wanting to trip in your heels. The cameras were already flashing as you reached the top, the photographers eager to capture a picture of the power couple.

"Miss Gojo, please look over here," one of the photographers called out, and you turned towards the cameras, posing with your husband as they snapped away. It was the opening of a brand new art collection, designed by one of Satoru's friends.

As the cameras continued to flash, you couldn't help but lean your head on your husband's shoulder, feeling grateful for his presence by your side. You ignored the questions about his cut lip, not wanting to spoil such a special night.

Finally, you reached the entrance of the art gallery, and you immediately let go of Satoru's arm, earning a look of guilt in his eyes. But you simply smiled and walked inside, eager to see the beautiful art pieces that awaited you.

The art gallery was bustling with people, the air filled with the excited chatter of guests admiring the beautiful artwork on display. As you walked in, you couldn't help but pause and take in the stunning view of colorful paintings and sculptures adorning the walls and floors.

Your husband, Satoru, walked beside you, his arm securely around your waist as he guided you through the crowd.

The room was filled with soft lighting, casting a warm glow on the walls adorned with beautiful paintings. Each artwork was unique, showcasing different techniques and styles.

A familiar face popped up in the bustling crowd, causing a smile to immediately spread across your face. "Sukuna?" you asked, making your way over to him.

He turned to look at you, his red eyes scanning your face before returning the smile. "Y/N, it's nice to see you again," he said, his pink hair standing out even more in the dimly lit gallery.

"How have you been?" he asked, guiding you around the room as you caught up on each other's lives.

Meanwhile, your husband stood off to the side, watching you with a mix of curiosity and jealousy. Satoru narrowed his eyes, feeling a twinge of envy as he watched you smile and laugh with another man.

He couldn't quite explain why, but he couldn't shake off the feeling. Trying to distract himself, he grabbed a glass of wine and downed it in one gulp, feeling the liquid burn down his throat.

"Listen, I know you graduated from Columbia University," he said, his voice sincere. "And if you ever need a job in finance, I own a private equity and I would be delighted to have you work for me."

Your eyes sparkled with excitement at the thought of being able to go back to work. It had been a while since you had a steady job, and this opportunity was too good to pass up.

"Really?" you asked, your smile growing wider.

"Absolutely," he replied, his red eyes scanning your face. "I would be honored to have you as one of my associates."

A glimmer of hope shined in your eyes as you thought about the possibilities this job could bring. You thanked him profusely, feeling grateful for the offer.

"Well, I would be delighted," you said, a sense of relief washing over you. Suddenly, you felt someone's gaze on you and turned to see your significant other looking at you with pride and admiration. You smiled, grateful for their support and excited for this new opportunity in your career.

Satoru couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy as he watched you from the other side of the art gallery. His eyes never left you as you laughed and giggled, your chest rising and falling with each breath. Seeing you with Sukuna, his rival, made the pit of his stomach churn. He wanted to go over and steal you away, but he knew better than to interfere.

As you walked around the gallery, admiring the artwork, Satoru couldn't help but notice how your smile seemed to light up the room. It was a smile he had never seen directed at him before.

His icy blue eyes met yours, and for a moment, it felt like the two of you were the only ones in the room. But then you leaned in and whispered something to Sukuna, a genuine smile on your face. Satoru's jaw clenched as he watched the two of you, feeling a surge of possessiveness wash over him.

When you finally left Sukuna's side and walked into a separate room, Satoru couldn't resist following you. He wanted to know what had made you smile like that, what had made you whisper to Sukuna.

As you walked towards the room, your heels clicked on the polished wooden floor, adding a sense of elegance to the atmosphere. Your dress flowed gracefully behind you, catching the light as you moved.

Suddenly, you were approached by a waiter holding a tray of champagne glasses. "A drink Miss? Complimentary from the artist," he offered with a smile.

You declined politely, wanting to fully immerse yourself in the art. As you entered the room, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and wonder. The paintings seemed to come to life, drawing you in with their intricate details and vibrant colors.

You walked closer to each one, admiring the brushstrokes and composition. Your husband joined you, both of you silently taking in the beauty of the paintings. It was a truly magical experience, being surrounded by such incredible artwork.

As you stood in front of the painting, you couldn't help but feel drawn to it. The image of two people hugging, their faces obscured but their body language conveying a sense of tension and distance, captivated you. The soft, muted colors and smudged lines only added to the painting's allure, making it both mysterious and alluring.

You could feel his gaze on you, but you were too caught up in the painting to turn and meet his eyes. It was as if the painting had cast a spell on you, and you couldn't look away.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Satoru finally spoke, breaking the silence. You tore your gaze away from the painting to look at him, noticing the way his eyes sparkled as he watched you.

"It's beautiful," you replied, your hands dropping to your sides, just inches away from his.

You could feel the heat radiating off of his hand, as if he wanted to take yours and interlock your fingers with his. Your heart skipped a beat at the thought, but you pushed it away, knowing that you were both just admiring the painting together.

But as you looked at him, his chest rising and falling with each breath, you couldn't help but admire his own beauty.

"It seems so familiar to me," you said, tilting your head slightly as you studied the painting.

"Like if I was the one who painted this." Your hand brushed against Satoru's, and he immediately looked down at your hand, his eyes lingering there for a moment before meeting yours again.

His gaze was intense, and you could feel your heart rate quickening.

You were struck by how he didn't need to say a word to express his admiration for you. He simply took in your appearance, mesmerized by the way your eyes sparkled as they scanned the paintings in the room. As your hand interlocked with his, you were surprised to find that you didn't flinch at his touch.

Instead, your body seemed to naturally gravitate towards his, fitting together like puzzle pieces.

As you turned to face him, you couldn't help but notice the way he looked at you - like you were the only thing that mattered in the room. His hand tightened around yours, pulling you closer to him. You could feel his cold palm against your warm skin, sending shivers down your spine.

Lost in the intensity of his gaze, you barely registered as his free hand reached up to gently touch your face. His touch was electric, sending a jolt of excitement through your body. Without a word, you both stood there, taking each other in.

Finally, unable to resist any longer, you leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you closed your eyes and savored the moment, not wanting it to end. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the two of you, lost in each other's presence.

You were hesitant to let go as well, but you knew you needed to give him some space. As you stepped back, you couldn't help but smile at him, feeling the warmth of his embrace still lingering.

“Can you get me some water?" you asked, your voice soft and a little hoarse from talking all night. "I feel a bit parched." He nodded, understanding your request, and slipped away from your grasp.

As he left the room, you could hear the faint murmur of voices coming from the main gallery where everyone was gathered. You took a moment to catch your breath and calm your racing heart before joining them.

Turning a corner, he spotted his friend Kento, surrounded by a group of people who were admiring his artwork. Satoru greeted Kento with a smile, happy to see his friend doing well in the art world.

Approaching Kento, he couldn't help but smile at his friend's surprised expression. "Nanami!" he exclaimed, and they exchanged a warm hug.

"How are you, Satoru?" Kento asked, tucking his hands into his pants. "I'm doing good," Satoru replied, his excitement growing.

"Listen, I was wondering how much you're selling the 'J'adore' painting for." He licked his lips in anticipation, knowing that he needed to have this painting.

Kento chuckled and placed a hand on Satoru's shoulder, "Someone's already offered to buy it, but maybe there's another painting you'd like?" he suggested, scanning the room for another option.

But Satoru was determined to have the 'J'adore' painting. "Listen, whoever the person is paying for it, I'll triple their offer and pay it myself," he stated firmly, a determined look on his face.

But before Kento could respond, Satoru's gaze fell upon a familiar face at the bar. His smile faded as he watched his ex-girlfriend laughing and chatting with another man. He quickly excused himself from Kento's presence, his mind now occupied with thoughts of the past.

Satoru's face twisted in anger as he saw Jiyuu talking to Toji, another man. He couldn't believe she would betray him like this. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he spat, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

Jiyuu rolled her eyes, her attention still focused on Toji. "What, I can't come to these events anymore?" she retorted, ignoring Satoru's presence.

Fueled by disgust and rage, Satoru grabbed Jiyuu's arm and forcefully pulled her away from Toji. She snarled and tried to resist, but he was stronger.

He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her outside, away from the prying eyes of the people inside the gallery. His grip was tight and his face was twisted in disgust.

"What the fuck were you doing talking to him?" he spat, his voice full of anger. Jiyuu rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, a defensive stance she took whenever Satoru got like this. She looked at him with no emotion on her face, making Satoru even more mad.

"He's just a friend," she said, her brown hair slightly messy from their argument. She tried to explain, but Satoru was already past the point of listening.

"I don't care, we're done Jiyuu," he said, his eyes narrowing at her. Jiyuu felt like the world came crashing down on her, her eyes widening as her arms fell to her sides.

"What? Satoru-" she started, but he cut her off with a scoff.

"I said we're done Jiyuu. I'm done with you and I want you to never contact me again," he said, his tone final and cold. Jiyuu couldn't believe what she was hearing. After all they had been through, he was just throwing her away like she meant nothing to him.

"Staying with you after marrying Y/N was a mistake," he added, the words hitting Jiyuu like a punch to the gut.

Jiyuu's heart was pounding in her chest as she listened to Satoru's words. The man she loved, the one she had just married, was telling her that staying with her was a mistake. It felt like a punch to the gut, the words hitting her with a force she couldn't ignore.

Tears welled up in Jiyuu's eyes as she shook her head, desperately grasping at Satoru's arm to stop him from leaving. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. “Satoru, you don't know what you're talking about!" she cried out, her voice shaking with emotion. "She's manipulating you, can't you see that?"

But Satoru pulled his arm away from her, his expression hard and determined. "No, she actually listens to my problems and doesn't disregard my feelings. It's over, Jiyuu," he repeated, his words like a knife through her heart.

Tears streamed down Jiyuu's cheeks as she struggled to stay composed, her mind processing each word with agonizing slowness.

She shook her head again, unable to accept what was happening. "No, Satoru, I'm not letting you walk away from this, from me," she pleaded, her voice breaking with emotion.

Her hands came up to cover her mouth as she tried to stifle her sobs, but they escaped uncontrollably. It felt like her entire world was collapsing around her, and she couldn't do anything to stop it.

Her attention was immediately caught when she saw you walking outside, your face etched with confusion as you spotted her and Satoru standing face to face. Your eyes widened in disbelief as you realized it was your husband in front of you. “Satoru?”

He turned to look at you, his eyes softening as they met yours. But before he could say anything, Jiyuu appeared out of nowhere and sprung at him, her lips crashing onto your husband's. You stood there, completely baffled and shocked at what you were witnessing - your husband kissing another woman.

You felt sick to your stomach, wanting to throw up right then and there. The sight of your husband being unfaithful to you was enough to make your blood boil. You couldn't believe what was happening before your very eyes.

As Jiyuu pulled away from Satoru, you couldn't control your emotions any longer. With a clenched jaw and tears in your eyes, you stomped over to him and pushed him away from Jiyuu.

"Y/N, wait-" he started to say, but before he could finish, your hand connected with his cheek in a loud slap. His face turned to one of shock and surprise.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back your tears as you turned to Jiyuu and stared daggers at her. "I'll send you the divorce papers tomorrow," you said through gritted teeth.

"Have fun being with her, Satoru." And with that, you stormed off, leaving them both behind.

As you walked away, tears welled up in your eyes from the pain of being rejected and humiliated. Satoru, who had just been slapped by you, placed a hand on his red cheek and turned to look at her with disgust in his eyes.

"Don't you ever try talking to me or my wife again," he seethed, "or I will fucking make your life a living hell." His nose scrunched up angrily as he ran after you, leaving Jiyuu absolutely baffled and sobbing in the wake of his outburst.

Satoru ran after you calling your name out, the cold hair touching his face making him shiver, in the cold. “Y/N wait,” He said as he caught up to you standing in front of you.

You scoffed, shoving him out of your way as you stormed out of the elegant ballroom. Your heels clicked angrily on the smooth marble floor, the sound echoing through the grand space.

Tears threatened to fall from your beautiful eyes as you struggled to keep your composure. Satoru chased after you, begging for forgiveness and trying to explain himself, but you were too hurt and angry to listen. The elegant chandeliers above you seemed to mock you as you made your dramatic exit, the soft light reflecting off the tears that finally escaped and trailed down your cheeks.

The cold air hit you as you burst out of the building, the tears freezing on your cheeks. You could hear him calling out your name, but you didn't stop. You kept running, not wanting to face the reality of his lies.

With a sudden sense of urgency, he swiftly placed his hand on his tie and began undoing it, his eyes never leaving yours. "Y/N," he said, his voice laced with a mixture of determination and desperation. He grabbed your hand and turned you to face him, his eyes searching yours for a sign of understanding.

As you met his gaze, you could see one side of his cheek turning a bright shade of red, evidence of the slap you had just delivered moments ago. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, his heart seemingly ready to leap out of his chest. The tension between you was palpable, the air thick with the unspoken words and emotions that hung between you.

"Don't do this to me, don't you dare say anything," you pleaded, your voice shaking with emotion. Your heart was racing, your mind racing even faster as you tried to anticipate what he was going to say. He stood there, his gaze locked on you, watching your every move.

Your bottom lip quivered as you bit down on it, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. Your hands trembled at your sides, your whole body tense with anticipation.

Despite your best efforts, a few tears escaped and rolled down your cheeks, smudging the makeup you had carefully applied earlier. But even with your makeup ruined, you still looked breathtakingly beautiful. He couldn't take his eyes off you, captivated by your vulnerability and your strength all at once.

"Y/N please, it's not what it looks like." Satoru pleaded, reaching out to grab your hand. But you pulled away, tears streaming down your face.

"It's never what it looks like, is it?" You sobbed, trying to compose yourself. "I told her to back off," Satoru insisted, pulling you closer and wiping away your tears with his thumb. His touch was soft and warm, but it did little to ease the pain in your heart.

"That's what you always say," you said, looking into his eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes that used to make your heart skip a beat. But now, they only filled you with anger and disappointment.

"I'm done pretending like every time I see you with him, it doesn't hurt me." Satoru's voice cracked as he grabbed your puffy face. "No, Satoru," you pushed him off, feeling a surge of anger. "I'm done pretending and trying to make this marriage work. It's always been her, hasn't it?"

Satoru's eyes fell to the ground, his guilt evident. "I should have known that what you said was a lie. It's always been her," you said, your voice shaking with emotion.

You picked up your dress and began walking towards the stairs, your heels clicking loudly on the concrete. Tears continued to fall down your face as you ran down the stairs, desperate to escape the pain and betrayal.

But just as you thought you were free, Satoru appeared in front of you, his eyes intense and his breaths heavy. "Do you know what you do to me, Y/N?" he asked, his voice laced with frustration and longing. "Do you think it's easy for me to see you with that man?"

He grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest, his heart beating wildly. You felt the heat radiating off his body, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your own chest. "Can't you feel it, Y/N?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

"Every time I see you, it's like a fire ignites inside me," he continued, his voice becoming even more strained. "A longing that only you can quench." You could see the raw emotion in his eyes, and your heart ached for him. "And when I'm away from you, it's like a part of me is missing." His words hit you like a ton of bricks, and you felt yourself getting lost in his gaze.

You bit your lip, unsure of how to respond. You could feel your heart beating so fast, and you could tell that Satoru was feeling the same way. In that moment, it was like the rest of the world faded away, leaving just the two of you standing there, caught up in your emotions.

A tense silence filled the air as you stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at your estranged husband. The memories of his betrayal still fresh in your mind, but a small part of you couldn't help but feel a spark of hope as he stood there, pleading for another chance.

You let out a bitter laugh, "And what? You expect me to believe you? You embarrassed me in front of everyone, and I still want a divorce." Your voice was laced with anger and hurt as you spoke, your eyes never leaving his face.

He took a step closer to you, his expression pleading. "I know I messed up, Y/N. But I want you. I can't let you go."

You shook your head, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside you. "You can't just say that and expect everything to be okay," you retorted, turning away from him and starting to walk down the stairs. Your heart was heavy with conflicting feelings, but you knew you couldn't just forgive him and go back to how things were.

As you reached the bottom of the stairs, you spotted your ride home waiting for you. Relief washed over you, and you quickened your pace to get to the car. Opening the car door you let out a sigh.

But before you could even close the door, Satoru stopped it and pulled you out of the car. Your heart raced as he stood in front of you, his gaze intense and determined. "What the fuck are you doing, Satoru?" you yelled, pushing against his chest. "I said leave me alone!"

He didn't budge, his grip on your arms tightening. "I can't, Y/N. I won't let you go. I'll do anything to make things right between us." His words were filled with desperation and sincerity, and you could see the regret in his eyes.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "It's not that simple, Satoru. You broke my trust and our marriage.”

"I know this marriage was arranged, but damn it, Y/N, I'm starting to fall for you." You were taken aback by his confession, but before you could respond, his lips crashed onto yours in a heated kiss.

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end notes; this chap after the leaks is gonna break my heart goodbye

[inkdrinkerworld]

Post!prision!Reid seeing his daughter for the first time after he gets out 🥹 he gets so emotional because he can finally hold his baby again!

OMG OMG OMG!!!! can you imagine how teary he'd be!! post!prison dad!spencer x mom!reader, I hope you enjoy <3

You wish you could’ve been with the team at the prison, see him come out there in person, but you’re still on bedrest with your baby girl. Georgia is only a couple weeks old, but she’s so much Spencer’s twin- the same unruly curls, the same nose and the same want of you. 

You’d written all about her in your letters to Spencer, describing every feature he’s going to see today in so much detail you were sure he would see her clearly in his mind. 

“Honey?” He doesn’t shout lest he wake his daughter as he walks in, his fingers twitching with the need to see both of you. 

“I’m on the sofa baby,” it’s almost as if he was never gone. You lean over the sofa to see him pass through the kitchen, his hands holding a small bag. “I’m sorry I can’t stand to kiss you, Spence.” 

He tuts, leaning down over you, “Nonsense, how’re you feeling?” His eyes flit over to the cot beside you, roving over your daughter before settling back on you. 

“Like I missed you longer than you’ve been gone.” You’re waterlogged immediately and Spencer rounds the sofa to pull you into him. 

“I missed you too,” his lips press into your temple, “God I missed you both so much.” Tears wet your hairline but you can’t seem to care, Spencer’s home and he’s able to see your baby girl together. What more could you want?

“I brought you some snacks, I figured you hadn’t been able to get any of your cravings.” He says gently, opening a bag to show you all the chocolate malt balls, the yoghurt raisins and the nuts you’d just run out of. “I got something for Georgia too.” 

“Spence,” you gasp when you see the orange stuffed octopus that he pulls out, it’s just as big as Georgia is now. He wipes the tears that fall on your cheeks, kissing your nose before opening the tub of nuts for you. “Seventh smartest animal in the world.” you recall softly. 

“Can I hold her?” He asks finally and you nod, watching him stand and hover over the bassinet. 

“Just scoop her up Spence, she’s going to be so happy you’re home.” 

Spencer doesn’t say a word, practically holding his breath as he does as you say- scooping Georgia up in record time and holding her close to his chest. There’s a moment right after she wriggles a bit when she settles and Spencer feels an ungodly wave of emotion crash into him.

Of course, he’d read that men only feel like fathers the moment they hold their babies, and everyone had told him (everyone being Derek and JJ) that you can’t control the way your heart kind of cracks open to make room for this new love, but he still hadn’t expected it to be so immediate and visceral. 

“Hi Georgia,” he whispers, his tears rolling down the bridge of his nose as he strokes her cheek. “Hi sweet girl.” You’re enamoured already, looking at Spencer holding your daughter like she’s made of fine China. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you were born, baby. But I promise I’m not missing anything else where you’re concerned.” 

Tears pool in your eyes as your daughter wakes up, no crying or wailing, just small coos and gurgles as she looks at Spencer. 

“It’s your daddy, Georgia.” You murmur, sniffling and wiping your eyes as Spencer hiccups as she reaches for his face, her little fist bumping into his jaw.

Her almond eyes stare up at him, blinking all slow as she takes him in. Then she smiles, as if she's put a face to the man who spoke to her every night, telling her all the facts he'd read and learnt about babies, animals and whatever soothing topic he could find to tell her while she lived in your belly.

“Your mom lied to me, you look just like her.” You scoff, rolling your eyes as Spencer gives you a little glare. “Those eyes are all her, Peach. Maybe you won’t get your daddy’s brain either- it’s no fun being smart and getting beat up.” You throw a cashew at Spencer then, making him chuckle and come sit beside you. 

“I’m so happy you’re home.” You whisper, stroking Georgia’s cheek as you press yours into Spencer’s bicep. 

“I’m happy to be back, angel.” his eyes remain transfixed to Georgia all day, holding her and touching her foot when he can’t because you have to feed her. Spencer thinks to himself that he’d live through prison a thousand times over if every time he gets out, he can come back to this moment, to the peace and serenity in your home with you and your little girl and the life you’d made together colouring every wall of the house.

[freedomfireflies]

Insufferable You*

Summary: The third part to Infinite You*

The one where Harry is still in an open relationship with your best friend, so maybe it's time to remind him what he's missing.

Word Count: 7.3k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, edging, spanking, brief exhibitionism, sir kink, masturbation, brief choking

“Kitten…what are you doing?”

Your whimpers are airy. Light. A string of breathless pleas woven between the soft sounds of your fingers fucking into your cunt. And you can’t answer his question. Can’t find the strength to pull yourself away from the pleasure between your thighs.

“Kitten,” he asks again and it’s firm. “Talk to me.”

He’s panting through his request and the sound—the image in your head of the way he must look, fucking his fist to the melody of your voice almost hurts you.

“I’m…I’m playing with my clit,” you answer. He groans. “Just like you do.”

“Just like me, hm?” He curses on his end of the phone and your legs shake. “How?”

“M’pinching it,” you tell him. “And pulling it. The way you like.”

His noises are louder. Needier. He must like the image in his head, too. “God, I’d give anything to see it, baby. Give fucking anything to watch you touch yourself for me.”

Anything. Anything. You shiver. “Yeah? You’d watch me?”

“Mhm.” He’s getting closer and you don’t want this to end. “Sit there on my knees and take every drop in my mouth when you’re done.”

Your hips buck up and your fingers sink deeper. He ruins you even when he’s not here. “I know,” you whisper. Your eyes squeeze shut. “And I’d let you.”

He makes a sound that might be a laugh but could be a strained moan. You aren’t sure. But you don’t really care because it’s beautiful, no matter what it is. “Kitten,” he exhales and your insides twist. “I need you to cum for me, okay? I need to hear you. God, I need to fucking hear you, baby, let me. Come on—”

There’s something in the way he speaks. Like he’s just woken up. Rough and low and thick. He sounds like sex and you miss hearing it in person. But you were desperate—you had to call him. You had to hear him talk you through this moment and you’re so glad you did.

When you cum, it’s everything. Perhaps not as satisfying as when it’s with him, but still euphoric. And your whimpers of pleasure are what send him over the edge.

The phone fills with the sounds of your ecstasy and you wish you could record the way he moans your name. You wish you could bottle this feeling and get drunk on the way he adores you. 

Instead, you indulge in the few moments you have with him. Because you know they won’t last much longer.

“That was good,” you tell him breathlessly and he chuckles. “How are you so good at that? Even over the phone?”

“Could ask you the same thing. Now I’ve got a sticky hand and nobody to clean it up.”

You pout. “Stop, don’t tell me that. It’s not fair.”

He laughs again. “Sorry, Kitten. Couldn’t help it. You all right? You feel better?”

“I do. Thank you for letting me call you.”

“Always.”

Your heart skips. “So…what are you up to today?”

There’s a pause. A long pause and you know what he’s going to say even before he says it. “Rebecca and I are running some errands.”

“Oh.” Oh. Your throat goes dry. “Right…sorry, I’m…you probably need to go, don’t you?”

Another pause. “In a bit,” he says. “After I make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you say far too quickly. And far too obviously forced. “Yeah, no, I’m…duh. Obviously I’m okay now. After…yeah. Okay, sorry. You can…I’ll talk to you later—"

“Kitten.”

You stop. “What? I’m…I’m letting you go—”

“Don’t. I want to talk to you a little longer.”

“But you’re busy—”

“It can wait.”

Swallowing, you whisper, “Harry, I’m…I’m just saying—”

“So am I.” He’s firm again. “Don’t do that. Don’t send me away because of her. We can talk. I promise.”

Your eyes squeeze shut. You force the tears back. Why does orgasming make you so emotional? “I know, I just…she’s there, isn’t she?”

Another beat. “Not in the room.”

“But she’s there. In the apartment. Near you.”

“Yes.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. “See, that’s…that’s why I’m letting you go. So you can be with her. Okay? I’ll talk to you later—”

“Kitten.”

“Harry.” You huff if only to make yourself sound stronger than you feel. “I’m okay. You can go.”

“You’re not okay. You’re sad.”

“I’m…no, I’m not sad, I’m just…I’m tired. I came really hard.”

“I know you.”

“Well…you don’t know me that well. Cause I’m fine.”

“Baby—”

“Just go,” you insist. “I promise I’m okay as long as you are. I shouldn’t have called so early anyway, that was…I’m sorry. That was my mistake—”

“You can call when she’s here, you know that—”

“But I don’t want to.”

Another long pause that feels like an eternity. “Okay,” he finally murmurs and you pull the phone away to take in a shaky breath. “But I want your honesty. Okay?”

“Sure.”

“Are you really okay?”

Truthfully, you don’t know. “Yeah, I’m fine. Swear. Thanks for helping me. I’ll talk to you later?”

“You will,” he agrees. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Rebecca’s dinner.”

Fuck. You forgot. “Oh…right—”

“You’ll be there. Right?”

It doesn’t really feel like you have a choice. “I…I don’t know yet, I might be busy—”

“You’re not.”

“You don’t know that. I could have plans.”

“You do. With us.”

Us. Your nose scrunches. “I mean other plans—”

“You don’t.”

“I might—”

“You don’t. If you did, I’d know.”

“Well, that’s presumptuous.”

“Maybe, but it’s true. Because you talk to me. When I ask you a question, you answer honestly. You’re a good girl. I know you.”

Your chest feels tight again. “Well, I don’t tell you everything.”

“You should.”

“You don’t tell me.”

“Because you don’t ask.”

He’s right. You never ask him anything personal because honestly, you’re afraid of what he’ll say.

“Fine,” you agree. “I’ll be there. Are we done?”

He waits a moment before saying, “We’re not done. We’ll discuss this later. But for right now, yes.”

And even if he sounds a bit strict, you can’t help smiling. “Yes, Sir.”

“Mm. That’s my girl. Take it easy today, all right?”

“I will.”

“Good. See you tomorrow, Kitten.”

“Goodbye, Sir.”

He chuckles and you hang up and even despite everything else…you can’t help but grin.

“Oh, my god. He does. Every time. He’s got such a weird thing with feet.”

You laugh. “It wasn’t so bad at first. But then he got a little too comfortable—”

“No, he does that. He really does.” Rebecca smirks as she throws the freshly chopped carrots into her pot. “And it started out cute, but now…”

You both glance into the living room where Harry is relaxing on the sofa. He’s smiling as he watches the two of you work on the food and even if he can’t hear you, he must know you’re talking about him.

“It’s still cute,” you argue in his defense. “Gross…but cute.”

She laughs. “Yeah, I guess he can be cute when he wants to be.”

You grin together and this feels good. You’ve missed your friend. You’ve missed having someone to laugh with, gossip with. And maybe it was strange at first, to come into their apartment and talk to your best friend about sleeping with her boyfriend.

But after a minute or two, you settled right back into the familiar rhythm of your friendship. And it almost felt…normal. 

“Has he done the thing where his left leg starts to shake when he gets overstimulated?” she asks and you nearly snort. 

“Oh, my god. Yes. The other day. I thought he was having a heart attack.”

“It’s the funniest thing. It just started, too. Couple years ago. He swears it doesn’t but like…I can see it.”

“It’s quite the tell,” you agree and you can’t help the way your eyes drift back to where he’s lounging on the sofa.

He notices and smirks at you.

“What?” you call.

He shrugs. “Nothing. You girls are cute, that’s all.”

“Bite me,” Rebecca says and he chuckles. “We’re not cute. We’re hot.”

“Absolutely,” he agrees. He leans forward. “Let me guess. You’re telling her about the leg thing?”

“Yup. And I was right,” she says smugly. “She sees it, too.”

His eyes roll but he smiles at you. “It’s not that bad—”

“No, it is,” she argues. “You look like a dog. A very cute dog, but still.”

He laughs a little louder and you’re almost jealous of their dynamic. A dynamic you’ve been witness to for almost five years. And it’s never made you jealous before.

But now…

She puts the soup on simmer and grabs your hand to lead you to the living room. “I told you we were gonna gossip about you,” she reminds him. “All good things, don’t worry.”

“I’m sure.” He smiles at you both as you take a seat on the sofa. She flops down right beside him while you cautiously sit on the other end. Exactly where you’d been that first day you agreed to this arrangement. “This is nice,” he says.

She hums. “Yeah, it feels like old times.” She glances toward you. “And it’s not weird…is it? I mean, you feel okay?”

Feeling a little hot under the spotlight, you swallow and force a quick shake of your head. “No, this is…it’s good. This is fun.”

However, she knows you better than anyone and her brows pull together as she studies you. “Do you have any questions? Or anything we can clear up?”

“Uh…I don’t know.” Truthfully, you don’t want to ask. “Is it…is it weird for you guys?”

They both shake their heads, almost as if in sync, and you resist the urge to scrunch your nose.

“Do you…have any regrets?”

“No,” she says and Harry agrees. “None. Do you?”

“No,” you echo. “No, I just…I don’t know. This still kind of feels like cheating.”

They exchange a glance and your heart skips. You’re even jealous of the way they look at each other.

“Rebecca and I have always agreed that whatever the other decides to do is their business,” Harry says. “As long as we communicate, there's freedom there. No judgment, no expectations, no regret.”

“And no jealousy,” she adds, offering you a soft smile. “Or shame. Or anything like that.”

You nod and pick at a loose string on your jeans. “And are you two…I mean do you still…”

“No,” she assures you and you’re thankful she figured out what you meant. “No, we haven’t in a few weeks.”

“Oh…because of me?”

She shakes her head while Harry says, “Not entirely. Most of it is for safety reasons. Keeping things clean and respectful. But it’s also one of our rules.”

“Rules?”

“We have a few rules we like to follow,” she explains. “It just makes it easier. Sometimes it can be tricky and this helps keep us on the same page.”

“And no sex is one of them?”

“Kind of. We don’t sleep together if one of us is seeing someone else. Well, no penetration, anyway.”

You hate the way your stomach sinks. “Oh. And…do you date other people…a lot?”

He looks over at her and she thinks. “Not…really?” she says. “I don’t think, anyway.”

“Jack was the last guy you were with, right?” Harry asks and she snaps her fingers.

“Jack. Right. Yeah. He was cute. And then yours was…Angie? I think?”

He nods. “Last year.”

“She was nice.”

“She was…sure. Yeah. She was nice.”

Rebecca laughs and he grins proudly, happy to have made her laugh. Your nose scrunches.

“She wasn’t that bad,” Rebecca argues. “She was just put in a weird position.”

“Literally and figuratively.”

She smacks his arm playfully and he pinches her thigh. You want to look away. 

“Either way,” she finally says, “we don’t very often. And I don’t think of it as cheating. Especially not with you. Because I know he’s a good partner and I know that you deserve someone as kind as he is.” 

He gives her a grateful grin before returning his attention to you. “We can stop if you want. Because I agree with Bex. I wouldn’t want to lose you as my friend and if you feel pressured or unsure—”

“I don’t,” you nearly rush to argue. “No, I don’t, I…I’m just really struggling with the dynamics of it. I guess.”

“Trust me, I get it,” she says gently. “It was a bit of a learning curve for us, too. Harry can get incredibly jealous.”

You’re tempted to tell her that you already know but you watch his reaction instead.

His eyes roll but then his stare returns to you and he winks, as though he’s recalling the same memory you are. 

It makes your skin feel warm.

“Oop, hold on. I gotta check the soup,” Rebecca suddenly exclaims before jumping off the sofa to rush back to the kitchen.

And now left alone together, your attention is drawn back to the tall, handsome man you can already feel staring at you.

“Any more questions?” he asks softly. He leans forward and places his elbows on his knees and somehow, even that makes you feel safer. 

“Just one,” you murmur and he nods. “Does this mean you and I are…dating? Or are we just fucking until I can find somebody else?”

There’s a slight edge in your voice that you hadn’t meant to be there, but he picks up on it instantly.

“Are you looking for somebody else?” he asks.

“Not really. But this whole thing started because you both felt bad for me,” you remind him. “And it’s been a lot of fun. Honestly. But you are kind of on loan. I just…I’m not sure what this makes our situation. If we’re just fucking…or more.”

He takes a moment to think about his answer, eyes flicking between yours almost as though studying you. “Would you like there to be more?”

You bite back huff. He’s very good at redirecting. “I don’t know. Would you?”

“I think more can get complicated.”

Your feel your expression fall. “Right.”

“And I don’t want to lose you from my life for good,” he continues. “You know that. Neither of us want to lose you—”

“Right, yeah. It’s fine. Forget I asked.”

He’s frowning now. “Kitten, don’t do that—”

“No, really,” you argue. “It’s fine. You’re right. Let’s just keep it like this until I can find somebody else.”

The frown turns into a glare. “Kitten—”

“Okay, soup is almost done,” Rebecca announces as she returns. This time she sits next to you and throws an arm around your shoulder. “What did I miss?”

The tension is palpable. You speak first. “I was just telling Harry that I might not need his services much longer.”

Rebecca’s eyebrows raise while Harry’s scowl deepens.

“Oh?” she asks.

You nod. “Well, seeing as we don’t want to do anything to ruin the friendship…I thought I’d give Ethan a call.”

It’s mean and perhaps a bit cruel, but you can’t help yourself. You aren’t trying to hurt him. Because he is right. And don’t want to lose him for good, either, and all this evening has truly done is prove how close he and Rebecca actually are.

You’ll never be able to compete with five years of love and affection. And maybe you don’t want to.

Maybe it’s time to move on.

“Ethan?” Harry repeats while Rebecca perks up.

“Yes,” she squeals excitedly. “Oh, I was hoping you would. He’s so nice, I think you guys would be perfect together.”

“Yeah,” you agree with a pointed look at Harry. “I think so, too.”

He knows what you’re doing. You can tell. And he’s oddly calm as he leans against the cushions and tosses his arms over the back of the couch. “And who the fuck is this Ethan?”

“Guy from my work,” you answer, equally as calm. “Nice. He’s been asking me out for a while.”

“A while.”

“Yeah, a while.”

His brows furrow. “So why do you want to go out with him now?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “He was never really my type before but we’ve gotten closer recently. I think it’s only fair I give him a real chance.”

“Really?” He’s curious. Maybe skeptical. “Now?”

You nod. “That way the three of us can preserve our friendship. Since that is the most important thing.”

“Well, I think it’s a great idea,” Rebecca tells you and hugs you to her side. “You’ll have to let us know how it goes.”

You grin and it’s all teeth. “I will.”

Dinner is nice. Tense but nice. You and Harry spend a majority of the meal exchanging icy glances and keeping to yourselves, leaving Rebecca to do most of the conversing.

And she doesn’t seem to notice. That or she merely pretends not to. She catches you up on some drama at work. Teases Harry about his sleep talking. Says she’s planning to visit her parents in a few weeks and then gives you the recipe for the soup.

And you and Harry nod politely, despite the unspoken rage from your ends of the table.

When dinner is finished, Harry offers to clean up and do the dishes. She kisses him on the cheek gratefully and says she’s gonna go take a quick shower since she’s got an early day tomorrow. She tells you that you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like and then she hugs you tightly and whispers, “I’m so glad we’re still friends.”

You hug her back and agree.

The moment she’s gone, Harry sets down his sponge and turns to you. “Come here.”

You hesitate by the front door, itching to escape. But he’s firm as he watches you from the sink, eyebrow raised and jaw clenched, leaving you no choice but to listen.

“Kitten,” he repeats. Lower. Sterner. “Come. Here.”

You take a tentative step toward him. “What?”

“We need to talk.”

“Do we?”

“Kitten.”

You huff and throw your purse back down. “I really don’t think we need to—”

“I don’t care what you think. I’m telling you that we’re gonna have a chat and you’re gonna come in here like a good fucking girl and talk to me.”

This is how he gets you. This is how he pulls your strings and turns you around until you obediently join him in the kitchen. Like a good fucking girl.

Satisfied, he leans back against the counter. “Now. What’s this Ethan shit you pulled?”

“It’s not shit, it’s real,” you huff. “He really did ask me out and I really am going to say yes.”

“But you haven’t yet.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I told you. He wasn’t my type—”

“No, I want the real answer.”

You frown. “That is the real answer—”

“No,” he repeats. “It’s not. And you know it.”

You cross your arms and look down at your shoes. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you. He wasn’t my type but now he is.”

The argument lulls and the small kitchen falls silent. You hear him sigh and it almost hurts to hear how heavy his disappointment hangs.

But a moment later, he’s slipping his fingers beneath your chin and raising your eyes to his. They’re soft. Serene. Filled with everything he can’t seem to find the words to say and you hate how quickly your body begins to crave him.

“You aren’t being honest with me, baby,” he murmurs. Your lashes flutter. “You aren’t communicating with me. And I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you say and he sighs like he knows this is a lie. “Really, I just…I know myself. If I don’t put a bit of distance between us…I don’t think I’ll ever be able to breathe on my own.”

This makes him sad and it hurts you to know you’ve made him sad. “Kitten,” he whispers. He steps closer until his chest is brushing against yours. “If I’m doing something wrong—”

“You’re not. That’s the problem.” You swallow and he brushes his thumb along your jaw. “You’re doing everything right and I’m worried I’m gonna want you in ways that I shouldn’t.”

“Do you not want to want me?”

“Not…like that,” you admit. “Not when you’re still hers.”

He frowns. “I told you, you don’t have to worry about anyone else—”

“But I do. Because at the end of the day, you’re still her Harry. You’re on loan to me until one of you decides you shouldn’t be anymore—”

“Kitten—”

“And I can’t be with you in any way but physically. You said so yourself. More would get complicated and even if you wanted to be with me…I don’t think I could share you.”

 He considers this. A long moment passes. “So you’re punishing me,” he says. “You’re going out with this Ethan guy to prove that you don’t need me.”

“What? No.” You lean back but he doesn’t let go of your chin. “I mean…okay, maybe I wanted to piss you off a little but I really do think I need to be with someone else in order to truly move on. I’m not punishing you. I’m…obeying you. If anything.”

He scoffs. “If you really wanted to obey me, you would have talked to me about what you were feeling.”

“I tried. You said more would get complicated.”

“It could. There’s always that risk. But I never said it wouldn’t be worth it.”

“So…what? You’d date me?”

“Of course.”

The answer is quick and it surprises you but it doesn’t seem to surprise him.

You blink. “You…really? You would date me? Like…officially?”

“I would.”

“And…what about Rebecca?”

“What about her?”

“You’d…you’d still be with her? Right? Even if we were together?”

He seems to know what you’re implying and sighs quietly. “Yes. I would.”

“And even if you weren’t…I’m assuming you would still want to be in an open relationship with me?”

Another pause. “Probably,” he admits, and even if you knew it was coming, you can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes. “That’s just the agreement I’ve always felt most comfortable with—”

“And that’s fine. I get it,” you assure him. You sniffle and he seems to wilt. “Really. I just…like I said, I don’t do well with sharing and if…if all we’re doing is fucking, I might as well just find somebody else, right? So that way the three of us can stay friends. And it doesn’t have to get weird.”

“I understand,” he says and you know he does. “I do, Kitten. And I would never keep you in a relationship you’re not comfortable in.” A beat. “But I can’t say that I like the idea of you going out with this guy.”

You smile. Gently. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

He looks down at you and takes your cheek in his hand. “You’re my girl,” he says. “No matter what. If you’re with me or not with me. You’re my fucking girl. And he doesn’t deserve even a second of your time.”

You fight a large grin and cling to his shirt. “You can’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

“Because.” You play with his buttons. “You don’t get to be jealous when you’re still with her.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m gonna like seeing you with someone else.”

You pout. “That’s not fair, Harry.”

“I know.” He brings his lips to yours. They hover—close—but never make contact. “I can’t help it. Can’t ever seem to help it when it comes to you.”

You want to push up and take his kiss, but he teases you just a little longer. “Harry—”

“Do you know that, Kitten?” His hands drop to your waist and he squeezes. Even though Rebecca is only two rooms away. Even though you can hear her humming in the bath. Even though he can never be yours. “Do you know how much I think about you?”

You swallow. Thick.

“How I think about the way you asked me to take care of you…” He ghosts his mouth down your neck. “The way you begged me to be rough….to spank you. Choke you. Degrade you.”

His voice is a sin and your eyes fall shut.

“Do you want me to degrade you, baby?” His fingers slip beneath your shirt. “Do you want me to pull you on my lap and spank you until you’re crying?”

The image in your head is somehow even better than his taunting. Your knees about buckle. “Harry…”

“You can find somebody else if you want to,” he whispers. “But do you really think they’ll be able to care of you the way I do? The way you want? The way you deserve?” 

His kisses find your chest while his knee slots between your thighs.

“I know how naughty you really are, baby girl,” he says and it’s over. “He will never know.” 

You grab his hair and he grabs your hips and you’re on the counter before you can even whisper his name. He pushes the hem of your dress up and guides your legs apart. He makes a home there, finger curling around the crotch of your panties in order to get a taste and it’s magic. Always.

And he does this to you only a few hundred feet away from where his girlfriend is innocently taking a shower. He does this, knowing she could walk out and see. He does this and you let him do this because there is no world in which you stop him.

“Harry,” you say—whimper—and he hums. His tongue licks up your cunt and your head drops back. “Har—wait—”

He doesn’t. He holds your thighs beside his cheeks and he sucks on your clit until you begin to squirm. “You promised to stay for dessert,” he says. “This is my dessert.”

The sounds are loud and beautiful and his curls feel good in your hands. You feel good in his.

Things fall to the ground. Bowls, pots, containers. He grins. He likes this, the danger. And he knows you like it, too. Because if you really wanted him to stop, he would. 

But you don’t. And you yank him closer to your pussy as though this will be the last time he ever gets a taste.

And deep down, you wonder if it is.

Either way, you enjoy his tongue and his lips and the tip of his nose that nudges your clit so expertly. You wonder how it’s possible to be so addicted to a man you’re not even with. A man that only recently started fucking you and a man that you’ve only ever considered a friend.

Part of you wants to get caught. Part of you wants things to implode. To believe that he’s doing this because he wants her to find out. Because what would happen if she saw? What would happen if he realized he wanted to end things? Would he be yours? Would he decide that your time and your heart and your pussy were infinitely more important than his sexual prowess?

You scrunch your nose. These are all the wrong questions. Harry doesn’t work like that. He never has and you can’t expect something from him that he won’t ever give you.

You return your focus to him. To the way his large hands are curling around your thighs and hoisting them up on the counter. You love his hands. You think they might be your favorite hands in the world.

They’re so gentle but strong. Practiced. You know they’d look good anywhere on your body. Your thighs, your chest, your throat…

You whimper at the thought and he glances up. He’s proud again. Drenched in your arousal and the evidence of your lust for him.

He moves his mouth to the inside of your leg and nips. He leaves marks and memories along the soft skin and you can’t wait to stare at them whenever he’s not around. The way he makes you his in the only way he can.

And you’re so close. You aren’t even sure how he got you here so quickly but he always seems to. And you don’t mind. Instead, you fist his hair and you buck against his tongue and he’s going to make you cum all over his girlfriend’s kitchen counter.

And then he stops.

He stops, he lets you go, and he pulls away.

Your heart drops to your toes as the orgasm fizzles down to nothing. “What…what are you—"

“Get down,” he says curtly. He slaps your outer thigh. “We’re leaving.”

He doesn’t tell you where you’re going. And you don’t ask. Instead, you watch as he wipes his mouth and disappears from the kitchen to wait by the front door.

After straightening your dress and readjusting your underwear, you scurry to his side with a fretful glance toward the bathroom. “Shouldn’t you tell her you’re going?”

He smiles. “She’ll figure it out.”

With that, you leave their apartment so he can take you back to your place and he keeps his hand on your thigh the whole drive. You wonder if he merely wants to keep some sort of claim on you or if it’s habit. 

Either way, his thumb rubs circles into your skin, right over the dark spots made by his lips and you smile. You want to lace your fingers with his. Want to hold his hand and pretend like the two of you are on your way home from a date. To pretend like this is normal—an everyday occurrence.

But you lose your nerve and soon, he’s pulling into the parking lot.  

“I want you upstairs,” he says and gives you a pointed look. “On the bed. Naked. And waiting for me by the time I come up.”

You nod quickly. “Okay. Are…am I in trouble—”

“That depends on if you obey.” He unlocks the door. “So let’s hope you do.”

Swallowing a giddy grin, you scurry from the vehicle and into your building. You don’t bother with tidying up or adjusting your appearance. You run straight into your bedroom, rip off your clothes, and spread out into a starfish position on the bed.

You hear him follow not much later. Slow, deliberate steps. Meant to taunt you, tease you. Make your stomach flip. And it works.

When you see his tall, muscular figure in the doorway, your pulse skips.

Smiling, you call, “Hi, Sir—”

“No speaking,” he says shortly. “Unless I say otherwise. Is that understood?”

“Yes—no—sorry, I’m…” You stop. Nod. 

He frowns but you know it’s only to hide a smirk. “Don’t test me, Kitten. You’ve already done that enough this evening, have you not?”

Another nod.

“And you knew better, didn’t you?” He walks into the room and begins to unzip his jeans. “Knew better than to dangle fucking Ethan in my face.”

You nod again but your eyes are trained on his hands. On the fingers that pull the hem of his shirt up and over his head.

“And you fucking knew…that if I got a taste of such a sweet pussy…I’d never stop,” he murmurs. He crawls onto the bed, wearing nothing more than his briefs. “That I’d forgive you. And let you off the hook.”

You don’t nod this time. You can’t. You’re too far gone in the lust in his eyes. The gentle green that’s now dangerous and luring you in.

“Well,” he whispers and then he smiles. “You thought wrong.”

He grabs your thighs and flips you over. Before you know it, you’re on your stomach, head spinning, while a large palm comes down in a sharp smack to your ass.

You jolt. Shriek. 

“Easy,” he says and he’s kinder now. “You’re gonna take your punishment like a good little whore, aren’t you?”

Now you understand. You see. And you settle onto the bed as he smooths the stinging print with the soft of his hand. 

You nod.

“Good.” He spanks you again. “I think we should do one for every time you lied to me. For every time I asked for the truth…and you refused to give it to me.”

Your lashes flutter. You suppose that’s only fair, although in your defense, the truth would have only hurt him.

“Let’s see…we’ll start with five,” he says and you exhale a sigh of relief. “Because I know you don’t mean to be a bad girl, do you?”

You whimper.

“You want to be good. Want to behave for me.” He spanks you. Number three. “You want a lot of things from me, don’t you? And maybe I’m bad, too. For not being able to give them to you.”

The air in the room shifts and you attempt to glance back.

However, he lays another firm smack to your ass before you can and then squeezes your hip. “Come on, you’re almost done,” he coos. A beat passes. “Do you remember me mentioning the traffic light system?”

You nod.

“Red for stop, yellow for pause, green for good, keep going?”

Nod.

“Good. Then I want you to use your words and tell me what color you are right now. Honestly.”

“Green,” you whisper, then clear your throat and speak louder. “I’m green. Honestly.”

He hums. “And you’re gonna take your last strike, yes?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And you’re gonna thank me for being so generous to such a selfish fucking whore?”

Your cheeks flush. Oh, he’s very good. “Yes, Sir.”

You still can’t see him but you can imagine his grin.

The last spank of his hand lands against your tender skin and somehow…it feels good. There’s something delicious about his pain. About the way he inflicts it. The way your body responds to it.

You groan—moan—and finally manage, “Thank you, Sir.”

He purrs something devious as he strokes the spot and begins to kiss his way up your spine. “Good fucking girl,” he breathes. The exhale of his praise dances across your back and you shiver. “Took your punishment so well. Wasn’t so bad, was it? Bet you even fucking liked, dirty thing. Didn’t you?”

You nod again and feel his knee begin to nudge its way back between your thighs. 

“Let’s check, shall we?” His fingers move now for the mess you already know is there. And when he feels it, he curses. “Fucking shit, Kitten, you’re soaked.”

You are. You are soaked and you’re making a mess of your duvet and his knee and he still hasn’t let you cum yet and you think you might die if he waits any longer. 

“Harry,” you nearly cry. “Please…please…”

He brings his kisses to the back of your neck. To the place below your ear that makes your stomach flip. He kisses. Sucks. Nips and violates the skin with his teeth.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Okay, but only because I know you need it.”

You nod again and begin to turn over. He goes to stop you—he wants to try from behind—but you insist.

“I want to see your face,” you say. “Please, I just…I need that tonight.”

The softness in his eyes and the fall of his expression almost hurts you. You don’t want to cause him pain or confusion. Ever.

But he’s not confused. He understands. And he agrees because maybe he needs it, too.

You pull him out of his briefs and he hikes your leg around his hip. Until the heel of your foot is digging into his ass and pulling him forward.

When he first pushes in, you both take a moment of silence to appreciate the beauty of your bodies connecting.

Harry was once your best friend and now he’s something else entirely. A completely different entity and you never imagined you’d see his cock disappearing into your cunt but now you don’t want to imagine his cock anywhere else.

When he’s about halfway in, he pulls back out and begins a steady pace. He’s large and he knows you need a moment or two to find the pleasure before he picks up a faster rhythm. So, he puts the focus on you. On your clit, on your thighs, on the way his lips feel against yours.

He kisses you—soft, sweet. Gentle. And then he kisses your neck. Your chest. Plays with your tits and whispers about how good they feel in his hand.

Then, he buries himself to the hilt as his hips find yours.

You arch and he catches you. There are more kisses, more soft murmurings. And there’s an intimacy here that doesn’t feel like sex. It feels like making love, a term you once scoffed at but now indulge in. Because maybe he does love you, in the only way he knows how. Maybe he does choose your body over hers. Maybe this was the best thing that ever could have happened to you. 

You grab his hand and bring it to your throat. Pointed enough that he knows what you want and after a quick glance for consent…he squeezes.

Your lashes flutter and you press on his knuckles. Harder. He obeys.

And you were right. His hand does look good on your body. A necklace to wear proudly and he whispers your name before tightening his grip and allowing the sides of your sanity to go fuzzy before loosening his fingers. 

You breathe. Deep. The air tastes like him and you love it.

He smiles. “You okay?”

“More than okay. That was…shit, I really like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Probably cause you’re doing it.”

He uses this hold to kiss you and it’s a mess of tongues and spit and loud sucking. It makes you giggle.

“You’re making this very hard for me,” he suddenly whispers.

“Well, I prefer you hard.”

He smirks, but this is not what he means. “I want this to work.”

“I know. I do, too.”

He surges forward—a sharp thrust. “It can’t work if Ethan’s in the picture.”

Oh. “Why? Because you need room for Rebecca?”

He sighs and you hate how sad it sounds. “I know I’m not being fair—”

“You’re not.”

“I can’t help it—”

“Well, neither can I.”

He stops for a moment and looks at you. “You have every right to go out with him. I know that. But I think I’ll lose my fucking mind if you do.” He continues to roll his body against yours and you want to purr. “So I want to make a deal.”

“Okay…”

“If you go out with Ethan, you go out with me,” he says. “If you date him, you date me. And I’ll play nice. I’ll share. But only until you realize he’s a waste of time.”

You run your fingers along his shoulders. Along his back. Along the curve of his ass. You think about his proposition. It sounds good, it does. A way to keep him while also keeping your options open. 

Because maybe this way, it won’t hurt so much when he still goes home to her.

“Can I think about it?” you ask. 

He kisses you. “Of course. Always.”

You resume the languid but fervent pace he previously set. He squeezes your neck whenever he wants to hear you whimper and you scratch your nails down his spine whenever you want him to groan.

And it’s perfect. Truly. Because while you’re on this date with Ethan, he’ll be able to see the marks Harry left on your throat.

And when Harry goes back to Rebecca, she’ll see the scratches down his back made by your hands.

You can’t help but feel satisfied with the idea and it brings you that much closer as Harry presses your hips to the bed and begins to fuck into you harder.

He readjusts his stance above you, knees deep into the mattress and hands clutching the sheets beside your waist. And every thrust is purposeful. Hard. Beautiful. The sounds are symphonic and when you look down to see, you nearly mewl. The way his cock is absolutely fucking covered in you, slipping in and out of your cunt with ease and determination. 

He’s beautiful when he’s focused. When he’s about to cum. You just want to kiss him and hold him and love him and be his.

And you fucking hate it.

“Need you to cum, baby,” he whispers and you nod in agreement. “Can you do that?”

“Yes….yes, Sir,” you stammer, already feeling the overwhelming power creep up your thighs. “I’m…I—”

“I know. I know, come on—”

You do. Just like that. Unravel like a spool of thread and dissolve into nothing but pleasure beneath him.

But you don’t feel him follow. In fact, he continues fucking you through your high until he suddenly pulls out and comes all over your swollen pussy.

It’s the most mesmerizing thing you think you’ve ever seen. The sticky substance paints your cunt in masterful strokes. Glistening from your body, your clit, your thighs like stars.

And you want to be disappointed that he didn’t finish inside but soon you understand why.

He takes your hand. Moves it closer and presses your fingers into the mess. 

“Touch it,” he whispers. “Fuck it back in.”

Your eyes widen. He smiles but the look in his eye is mischievous and deranged.

“Go on, Kitten,” he says. “I wanna watch.”

Your arms are shaking. In fact, every part of you is still shaking from your orgasm but you obey. You slowly—very slowly—begin to circle your touch around your clit. Feeling the way it nearly throbs as you stimulate it. As you force it into more pleasure.

Harry’s attention is glued to the show before him as he swallows thickly and you swear you can almost see his heart beating against his chest like a cartoon.

You move down. Collect as many drops of him as you can and slowly begin to ease two fingers into your fluttering hole.

When you reach the knuckle, you gasp and he exhales. 

It’s perfect.

He scoots back until he can lay on his stomach and place his cheek against your thigh. Close. Close enough that you can feel his breath fan across your hand.

And he watches. Happy. A lazy smile on those beautiful, pink lips. Lashes fluttering every time you whimper or whine.

“I…I can’t,” you whisper. The sensations are too strong. You’ve already cum once, you can’t possibly cum again so soon.

He hums. “Yes, you can. Let me see, baby. Let me watch.”

And you almost want to be embarrassed but something else seems to take over your mind entirely and you can’t help but go faster.

You pinch and curl and flex. You push his offering as far into you as you can reach and then you push in a little more. And it’s easier this time, even if it almost hurts. But you cum. You do, right in front of his very eyes until he’s quickly grabbing hold of you as though he’s desperate to be closer.

You’re more than a puddle this time. You’re practically limp but you’re also so incredibly happy. And he smiles brightly as he pulls your fingers away and puts them in his mouth.

You don’t even have the energy to make a noise this time. You merely watch him—content—until he starts kissing down your palm, along your arm, and to your chest.

Then, he pulls you into his embrace and you both indulge in a moment of peace. 

You’re both quiet for a while. Even after your heartbeat has steadied. Even after the sweat on your skin has dried and the room no longer feels so warm. 

You run your fingers down his torso. Along the dips and curves of his muscles that seem more defined every time you see him. 

“You’re insufferable,” you finally say and he laughs. The sound bounces between the walls of your room—joyous and unencumbered—and it makes you giddy. He doesn’t laugh like this for her. “What? You are.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Another beat. Longer.

Then, you whisper, “Okay.”

He looks down. “Okay?”

“I’ll agree to your deal.”

“Really?” He’s grinning again. Big.

“Mhm. As long as I get to keep you in some way…maybe it’ll be worth it.”

He seems to sadden at the use of the word maybe, but he brushes it off before you can comment on it. Instead, he pulls you closer and kisses you hard. Forever. 

And maybe…this won’t be so bad.

Previous Part:

~ Insatiable You* (Pt. 2)

~ Full Infinite You Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @buckybarnessimpp @hannah9921

[satoruluvies]

saying somethin' stupid like 'i love you'

fwb!gojo saying the forbidden L word during the deed ????

slightly nsfw, minors please don't interact. also fluff bc i miss gojo :(

not proof read !

thankyou so much for all the support on my recent ♡

satoru thinks you're so cruel. one minute you're holding onto him, nails digging into his back as if you needed him to live.

chanting his name so so beautifully as he trapped you between his bare body and the bed, relentlessly thrusting into you.

and then the next you were back to acting like even his mere existence irritated you. in a way it does but not in the way he thinks.

not once had you been there the morning after. only the crumpled sheets and your nail marks served as reminders that you were here, with him.

“gojo can you not-”

“that wasn't what you called me last night. what happened to toru?”

you glare daggers at him as one of his hand held your notebook high up. he was ridiculously tall and he liked abusing that privilege. especially against you.

“shut up” you walk past him without bothering to take your book.

“hey you mad baby?” he chuckled, getting in front of you, stopping you again.

“come on, answer me. why'd you leave? i thought we agreed to go to class together hmm?”

you roll your eyes at him and crossed your arms.

“that's what you said. i didn't agree.”

“aw you're too mean” he pouted as you scowl and try passing him again only to be stopped by his hand on your arm.

“i wanted you to stay.” his words were heavy, his face not showing even the slightest bit of his shit eating grin he always has on.

he turns to you, his round sunglasses were low on his nose and you could see his oh so beautiful eyes.

you look away because if you don't, you were pretty sure you'd be hypnotised and you'd do whatever he wanted.

“if you keep doing this i won't stay over anymore.” your words shot a painful jab at your own abdomen. his grip around you loosened slowly until he lets go completely.

“alright then.” he hands you your notebook, more like placed them into your arms as he walked away, eyes never meeting yours.

the next ‘sleepover’ took place three days after the banter with satoru. he hadn't called or texted the whole time but when you asked if he was up for it, he replied almost immediately.

so here you were again, him ramming into you as you cling onto his bare body for dear life. you could feel your climax coming as your grip grew tighter and tighter.

satoru was the same, chasing his high. he had missed you a lot the past three days but tried distancing himself just so his feelings for you would simmer down.

it only resulted him thinking about you all day and even more during the night. he finds himself wishing you were here with him, either giving you the pleasure you both agreed upon or just you laying down next to him. he didn't care.

he just wanted you to be there. with him.

and now that you are, his heart clenches the way you clench around him as the both of you cummed simultaneously.

he holds your body tight as you both work your way through the orgasm, euphoria rushing through both your veins.

“fuck y/n…” he groaned as he felt your grip loosen. he can't let you go just yet.

“i love you”

he hadn't meant to say it really. not like this at least.

“satoru we've been through this-” you push him weakly but he stays grounded, eyes boring into yours.

“i mean it.” he says, one of his hands found themselves caressing your cheeks as the other supported him while he hovered above you.

“you don't have to say it back or… feel it back…” satoru's voice was full of emotion.

“but just give me a chance to show you how much i love you. then we can work things out from there.”

you find yourself falling into the charms of gojo satoru. it's not everyday he offers his heart to someone. he doesn't offer it at all but now here he is, handing it to you on a silver platter.

“alright”

you could see satoru's face visibly light up and his blue eyes gleammed. he leaned down to place a soft kiss on your lips.

“thankyou” he traced his fingers on your jaw, his touch so soft, so addicting.

“you better treat me like a princess” you chuckle as he physically melted at the sound.

“oh i plan to do exactly that, and more, lovely.” he leaned down to place another kiss on your lips.

[wonryllis]

☆ ᵎᵎ ENHYPEN COMING HOME TO FIND YOU ASLEEP.

╰ 𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇.

𝒏o𝓉ℯs. enhypen in whipped era 𖥔 ݁ fluff, soft soft softtt LIB? fem!reader word count `719 PLS REBLOG!!

𝗹𝗲𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 he knows you stay up late waiting for him, this time he finds your figure laid against the soft cushion in a weirdly adorable position. heeseung quietly tiptoes to have a closer look, taking his time to admire your sleeping face. oh he so wishes to keep coming home to you like this. he'd sit beside you and tell you things he could never have said to your face, his deepest thoughts. apologizing for things he could've done better and thanking you for being with him and loving him.

i think i will love you forever, i want to.

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗷𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗴 he is so used to it, at least he thinks he's so used to it but everytime he comes home to find you passed out on the couch, or on the carpet slightly lolling to the side the book in your hands almost falling off, he feels the same butterflies he did when it first happened. if you aren't in your pajamas already, best believe he'll change you himself, not wanting to disturb your sleep and put you to bed like magic fairy. he'll join you in later, and if you accidentally stir awake he'll put you back to sleep.

shh, go back to sleep love, i'm right here.

𝘀𝗶𝗺 𝗷𝗮𝗲𝘆𝘂𝗻 this guy has a field trip range of emotions upon seeing you asleep after a long day of work. he feels this fuzzy and warm feeling watching the one he loves sleep so peacefully, and on the other hand he's so excited to just join you. if you're on the couch he'll squeeze himself in whatever space he finds and cuddle you into the morning and if you're on the bed, he'll leech onto you leaving more than half the mattress empty while he snuggles into his baby on your side of the bed.

mmm, love having you in my arms like this

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗻 outwardly he's so nonchalant at first, just coming up to your passed out figure and picking you up to get you to the bed, a smile on the tip of his lips. however the moment you nuzzle into him in a soft whine, he's so putty feeling his heart skip beats, his breath staggering like boy is damn smitten. placing you on the bed he'll quietly pull the covers on, a sneaky kiss on the lips and then leave the room to calm himself down, maybe even scream silently a little with the way you get him nervous over nothing.

fuck, she's so damn adorable i'll melt.

𝗸𝗶𝗺 𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗻𝘄𝗼𝗼 he'll text you to ask if you're awake and if you don't respond he knows you're out. he'd definitely softly speak about his day even though you're not listening. complimenting you as he always does of how pretty you manage to look all the time. will sing you a bunch of songs if you wake up, holding you close and tracing over your features, smiling so wide all the tiredness of the day washes away. also makes sure to wake up before you to again admire your sleeping face.

you're the best thing that's ever happened to me.

𝘆𝗮𝗻𝗴 𝗷𝘂𝗻𝗴𝘄𝗼𝗻 asleep or not, jungwon is always careful when he walks through the door, softly opening and closing it. tiptoeing inside as quietly as he possibly can, and when he spots you asleep on the couch he'll put everything down to bring you to bed. carrying you like the most precious thing, laying you on the mattress and immediately leaning over to leave kisses all over. if you stir awake he's getting in and cuddling you back to sleep, hands caressing your head gently.

it's just me baby, you looked so cute couldn't help it.

𝗻𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗺𝘂𝗿𝗮 𝗿𝗶𝗸𝗶 will absolutely not switch on anything or make any sound and obviously will carry you to bed if you're passed out somewhere else. he'll kinda avoid looking at your face, until he cannot help it and god help him because once he does he'll be glued, eyes staring non stop. he can't believe someone so beautiful loves him, and all these complicated emotions come at once. he's overwhelmed and so whipped, he'd play around with your hair deep in these thoughts until sleep comes to him too.

how did i manage to have someone like you?

taglist ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz

[lovebugism]

istg that “just because you’re beautiful and a good kisser does not mean i forgive you.” “you think i’m beautiful?” is sooooo eddie coded.

i'm picturing a sorta enemies to lovers with eddie pulling yet another prank on reader (we all know this boy has the emotional maturity of a five year old when it comes to making a move on the girl he likes) but he really does hurt her feelings this time so he tries to make it up to her and they end up kissing.

from what you've written before i think you could put a great spin on this sorta scenario, if you feel like it <3

hope you like it! :D — you're eddie munson's biggest enemy. and, yes, you're also his soulmate. (enemies to lovers, secret relationship, 0.9k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

You storm into the bustling lunch room, having traded your pretty corseted blouse for a piece of oversized Corroded Coffin merch — definitely not by choice. “Do you have a death wish?” you ask when you reach the Hellfire table at the very back of the cafeteria, zeroed in on its leader at the head of it.

Eddie turns slowly, blinking up at you with innocent button eyes. His chews through the hamburger wadded in his cheek. “Potentially,” he answers, muffled before he swallows it down.

You huff, too easily frustrated. It isn’t any wonder why he likes to mess with you so much. “Where are my clothes?” 

“The ones you left on my bedroom floor last night or…?”

“No, you idiot— The clothes you stole from the girl’s locker room. Which makes you a total perv, by the way.”

“Oh, that sexy little number?” he croons, turning in his seat to face you more. “It’s in my locker, actually.”

“Well, get it out,” you say with gritted teeth.

He thinks for a moment, pursing his lips to the side. “Hm… I don’t think I will.”

Your jaw tightens. “Why?”

“‘Cause it’s a little revealing, don’t you think?”

“Well, yeah, that’s kinda the point, Munson.”

He smacks his lips against his teeth, then scrunches the bridge of his nose. He wags a sarcastic, ringed finger at you. “See— Those aren’t the values a nice girl like you should have—”

“God, you’re infuriating,” you groan and stomp off again.

Eddie smiles to himself while he watches you go, cheek tilted lazily to his shoulder. The only thing he likes better than seeing you come (in more ways than one) is watching you leave.

He sighs a deep, contented sigh and turns back to the rest of the table. They’re all wide-eyed and silent, still musing on the sudden interaction with the disbelief that it had happened at all.

Eddie only grins, wider this time. “Ah… She’s obsessed with me.”

—————

By the end of the school day, your blouse hasn’t yet been returned to you. You’re still stuck in the stupid shirt Eddie had left for you — all black, too big, and obviously his. You know it belongs to him because you’ve worn it thousands of times while sleeping over at his place. It smells just like him, like weed and cologne and boy.

You’re heading towards the exits when a hand pulls you into an abandoned classroom around the corner — pale, ringed, and lanky. As if you needed any further confirmation it was Eddie Munson. 

You stumble in, and he locks it behind you.

“Don’t you think you’ve bothered me enough today?” you squint.

“Oh, so you don’t want your shirt back?” he teases, waving the thing in his free hand. You reach for it, and he snatches it back, smirking softly down at you. “Uh-uh. What’s the magic word, sweetheart.”

“Give me my shirt back,” you answer in a monotone.

“Not even close, but I’ll give you a kiss for it.”

You sigh like it’s a chore for you and lean in to kiss his cheek. Your lips just barely graze his stubbly jaw. Eddie shrugs. “You missed, but I’m feeling nice today, so—”

You snatch it from him when he hands it to you. “You can’t keep doing this, Eds. We’re supposed to hate each other.”

“Well, one, we do hate each other. Obviously,” he scoffs and leans back on one of the desks. It shifts under his weight, and he stumbles. He decides to sit on it completely while you laugh. “And two, this was, like, a genius prank on my end. I made my arch nemesis walk around in my shirt all day— you’re not giving me enough credit for this, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, except I got called the freak’s girlfriend all day.”

“By who?”

“Who do you think?”

He ponders for a moment. “…Jason?”

You nod, all slow because it’s obvious. The only one who hates Eddie more than you do is Jason Carver. You wonder if he’s secretly in love with the town freak, too.

“Well, it’s about time he knows who you belong to,” the boy says with a laugh. “He’s only been trying to get with you for two years.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t belong to anyone— I’m not a toy.”

“Well, yeah— only when you wanna be,” Eddie teases, reaching out for you. His ringed fingers curl around your wrist to pull you closer. You sigh in annoyance but walk between his thighs anyway.

“You’re so annoying.”

Eddie grins, pink and boyish. “But you like me anyway. So who’s the real loser?”

“I thought we hated each other,” you quip with narrowed eyes.

“I was kidding— Just kiss me.”

You giggle quietly and lean in to peck his lips. He tastes like nicotine and spearmint, mouth soft like flower petals. You get lost in him too easily. One peck becomes two — then three — then a longer, languid, and more drawn-out thing.

You feel Eddie smile against you, knowing he’s won now that you’re melting for him. You pull away with a smack when you regain your senses.

“Just because you’re pretty and a good kisser, doesn’t mean I forgive you, by the way. You know that, right?”

“Mhmm,” he hums mindlessly, already leaning forward to kiss you again.

You pull softly back. “And that I’m totally getting you back for this?”

“Yep.” He pecks your lips once, with a lot more self-restraint than you’d had. “So… When are you coming over to get the clothes you left at my place last night?”

[dumplingsjinson]

List of “you just had to go and ruin something good, didn’t you?” prompts

“…Maybe you should have kept that to yourself.”

“I really wish I didn’t find out about what you did.”

“You should have trusted me.” “How dare you— You can’t be serious right now. You made it so fucking difficult for me to trust you.” 

“Things could have stayed the same if you didn’t go and run your mouth.”

“There are days when I wish you didn’t tell me how you felt.” 

“You’ve done nothing but fuck things up, so thanks a lot for that.” 

“So… What was I supposed to do? Hide how I felt and just carried on like my feelings meant nothing? Like my emotions hold no weight at all?” 

“This could have been avoided if you didn’t—” “If I didn’t what? If I didn’t tell you how I felt about you?” 

“Why are you letting my feelings get in the way of our friendship? I’m not asking you to like me back! I’m not asking for any of that so why… Why? I just don’t understand what I’ve done that was so fucking wrong that I’m being literally condemned for it by you.” 

“So you’re saying I wouldn’t have lost you all if I had just sat there and bit my tongue.” 

“I’m sorry for telling the truth. I’m sorry I didn’t want to lie.” 

“If telling a lie was the only way I could keep us together than I think I’d prefer things this way. I don’t want us to be built on lies. It’s happened before, and it fell apart right in front of me and… I don’t want to risk going through that pain again. Especially knowing I could have done something to save it from crumbling like that, but I was not brave enough to make that step.”

“Curiousity more than just screwed us over, didn’t it?”

“We wouldn’t be here if you were capable of telling even an ounce of truth.”

“It’s the fact that we lost something so dear to us because of one small detail that really didn’t need to be aired out like that.” 

Join my Discord server: Steaming Dumplings Nation (so you can also join in on yelling at me to go to sleep at an appropriate time)

[mvybanks]

the deal — the one where you almost break up

a/n: writing flangst just to feel something oh how i love being a woman😫 on a serious note, don’t kill me pls + this can be read as a stand-alone but it’s a post-series blurb from the deal !!! (i know this is longer than a blurb but we all know that i don’t care)

warnings: FLANGST!!!, rafe is mean, mentions of things that happened in the series, ward being a terrible parent, not proofread (will do it tomorrow🫡)

nav the deal masterlist

add yourself to my taglist <3

—

You and Rafe are in a fight.

Or at least what started out as just a fight.

It’s rare for either of you to be mad at the other, but he truly has crossed the line this time and you feel like your relationship is hanging by a thread now.

He had gone back home for a couple of days, that turned out to be a week, and although you didn’t know what was the reason, you didn’t think much of it, it was a habit of his and you believed that he only wished to see his sisters. However, when he came back, he wasn’t your Rafe. You couldn’t recognize the man that had walked inside your apartment and to be honest, you didn’t want to get to know him.

“Hey, baby!” You ran to him as he had opened the front door, for you had given him a key to your apartment.

If there’s one thing that he had always loved was being welcomed by your sweet embrace, engulfed by your comforting perfume and finally being able to relax against you. But that didn’t happen this time.

“Hey,” was all he said. No emotions behind it, no joy of seeing you again after an entire week, and that had already alarmed you. Hell, what had already made bells go off in your head had been the little to none contact when he was away.

You were only able to place your hands on his chest before he kept walking inside, ignoring you, while he reached the bathroom and left you at the entrance. Where was your boyfriend?

You went to lie on the couch and stayed there until he came back in the living room. You could tell something was wrong and you were unsure if you had done something to make him upset.

“How was your trip?” You only asked, not wanting to pry on his behavior immediately.

“I don’t feel like talking.” He coldly exclaimed, making your lips seal shut.

And so you remained in silence for what seemed an eternity. An uncomfortable silence; one that you had never experienced with Rafe and it was hurting not knowing what was going on.

Finally, you attempted at getting an answer, gently placing one hand on his shoulder as he sat next to you on the couch. “Baby, what’s wrong?” You inquired, worry laced in your voice.

“Nothing’s wrong. I told you I don’t feel like talking, Y/n, for fuck’s sake!” He groaned, shaking your hand off and breaking your heart in a million pieces as he did so. He got up from his seat, not even noticing the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes.

“Just tell me if it’s something I did. This isn’t you.” You whispered, heartbroken.

This isn’t you.

This isn’t you.

The words kept echoing in his ears. The same ones he had pronounced. He let out a humorless laugh, “What, you think you know who I am, then? This is me! Make your fucking peace with it.”

You also left the couch, anger running through your veins as your eyes were focused on the stranger in front of you. “No, I won’t make my fucking peace with it, Rafe! You left for a week, you avoided me, then you come here, in my apartment, and keep ignoring me. I think I deserve an explanation!”

“You know what? Yes, I left for a week and I wanted to come back to my loving girlfriend. Is she here by the way? Because she sure as hell isn’t in front of me now.” He raised his voice once again, his tone accusatory.

Shaking your head, you matched his tone. “Don’t you dare turn this on me! Jesus, Rafe! You’re acting as if you hate me. We haven’t talked for a week and you’re still ignoring me. You’re here and you still feel distant.” Although it went unnoticed by him, a tear ran down your cheek as you pronounced the last words, and even that felt like a punch in the stomach because nothing that you’ve ever done has gone unnoticed by his always attentive gaze. Not a day has gone by where you weren’t his sun and every star in the universe, where you weren’t the reason why to everything, to all of his breaths. And yet, you felt like this has been the first day.

“I’m here, Y/n! I’m fucking here, aren’t I?! Stop lying and bullshitting me with this stuff. God, is this what you always do, you lie to everyone until you find someone better? Huh?! Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your whole world stopped. You felt like the ground beneath you had fallen and had brought you with it. You were gasping for air and felt lightheaded all at once as everything in you ached. How could have he thrown that in your face? Your ears were ringing and your voice broke as you murmured, “Get out.”

The thing is that Rafe had regretted what he had said immediately. The hated filled words had spilled from his venom-tainted lips, but it hadn’t been your fault. Nothing was ever your fault, because you were his universe — you still are and have never stopped, because his whole life revolves around you and he wouldn’t want it any other way. So, he only let out a whispered “What?” as he felt a pang in his chest.

“Get out of my house.” You repeated looking at the ground before you raised your head to stare at him, “Get the fuck out of my house!” You yelled then, pointing towards the door.

He took a step closer to you, “Wait —“

But you were quicker, putting even more space between you, “If that’s what you think of me, why don’t you just break up with me? If that’s how you feel, why are you still with me?”

“Baby —“

“Shut up. Just — Shut up! Get out of my house, I don’t wanna see you.” You raised your voice once again as tears ran freely down your face.

“ I —“ He kept attempting to say anything, to make it right, but you interrupted him each time for the sound of his voice wasn’t a comforting melody anymore, but the reason of your pain.

“I don’t wanna see you again. I don’t wanna hear your voice. Get. Out!” And that’s when you began to physically push him away. He couldn’t stop you, nor did he want to upset you further, therefore he left.

However, he could hear you crying from outside, he listened as you sobbed against the door and punched it. He wished he was able to come back inside and take you in his arms, to console you, but he knew he wasn’t who you wanted in that moment, indeed he was the last person you desired.

But he stayed.

He stayed outside until he listened to the sound of your steps taking you far away from the door; until his back and his legs hurt and he had to sit down; until his heart screamed for you, loudly, bleeding for the tears that he had caused you; until now.

Softly knocking, “Can I come in?” He tries to choke out, the lump in his throat now impossible to swallow. Guilt. That’s what it is.

You’re sitting on your bed, the door of your room showing you the entrance, and you can hear the muffled words coming from the other side, but you won’t give in. You listen to him, pleading for you to let him in, because he wants — no, he needs to know that you’re okay, for he hasn’t heard from you for over three hours.

So, yes. You and Rafe are in a fight, but you’re not sure if this is the end of your relationship as well.

What you’re not aware of is that he has the key sitting in the pocket of his jeans, and although he’s dying to use it, he wishes for you to open the door, for you to tell him that you can find it in your heart to forgive him, to just hear him out; but he knows he doesn’t deserve it. As time passes and the lack of answer continues, his fear increases. Are you okay? That’s all he keeps thinking about. Therefore, he decides to open the door, slowly walking inside while looking for you.

You don’t even raise your head when he comes in, you don’t give him the satisfaction of your attention. Once he enters your room, tears streaming down his face, he reaches his hand to gently cup your cheek, “Baby,” he whispers. But you’re quicker, instinctively running away from his touch. The action breaks him completely.

He falls on his knees, sitting in front of you, as he shows his raised hands to you. “I’m sorry. Please, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it, sweetheart.” He says quietly for the uncomfortable sensation in his throat doesn’t allow him to speak at a normal volume. “I didn’t mean it, please.” Rafe repeats once again before a long string of hushed ‘i’m sorry’s leaves his lips. Finally, he lets his head fall on your closed knees and his fingers delicately grab your calves while the never ending apologies make him sound like a broken record.

You can’t help but cry with him, although your gaze is still on the wall beside you, and yet you can feel the pain written on his features.

“My father was there.” He mumbles against your clothed skin.

“What?” The word leaves your lips but you don’t even realize what you’ve asked until he continues.

“My father was home. He never is when I go back home, but he was there this time.”

You‘ve learned about Rafe’s relationship with his father; he’s told you a lot — actually, he’s told you everything about it, because he wanted you to know him, and you do. You know him better than anyone else in the world. “He was mad. Said that I’m ungrateful for never showing up when he’s there and that this isn’t me. He just— he kept yelling, saying that I’m a piece of shit who deserves nothing. I don’t deserve his kindness, I don’t deserve my sisters, I… I don’t deserve you.” He murmurs the last words, which finally makes you look down at him.

Your heart is in a thousands of pieces as you softly ask, “Me?”

Rafe stares up at you and bloodshot eyes bore into yours. “You. He never stopped saying that, until I believed him. I know you deserve better, I’ve always known that, but I guess hearing this from someone else, out loud, it made it real. So, I pushed you away and I’m sorry. I’m not finding an excuse, I swear, I only want you to know that it’s not your fault and that I take full responsibility.”

In a moment of weakness, you let your hand faintly touch his jaw and your thumb brush against his cheek, causing him to rest his head further in your palm.

“I’m sorry about your father, Rafe, I really am, but what you said hurt me, and I didn’t think it was possible for you to ever cause me so much pain.”

Twisting his neck, he kisses the palm of your hand and tightly shuts his eyes. “I know. I know and I’m sorry. I will regret this for the rest of my life, but I promise you with everything I have, with every single cell of my body, that I will never do that again. And I know how this sounds, but if you just give me one more chance, I will spend the rest of my life showing you how much I want to deserve you.” At last, he gets up and holds your face in his hands. “I love you so much, baby. So, so much.”

“The rest of your life, huh?” You playfully ask.

He lets out a wet chuckle. “The rest of my life, baby. You know I’m here for the long run.”

“You better act like it, then, Cameron.”

Rafe rests his forehead on yours, breathing you in and nodding his head at your words. “Can I kiss you?” He mumbles, his mouth almost touching yours.

“Please.”

Your lips connect to each other’s and it feels as if this is the first time you’ve been able to breathe in the past hours. He goes to sit next to you on the bed, never leaving your lips, before he grabs you and manhandles you until you’re sat on his lap. Rafe holds you impossibly close, scared that you’re going to leave as soon as he lets you go. However, unbeknownst to him, you could never leave him, not when he shows you how much he loves you over and over again, and especially not when you go to sleep in each other’s arms and the only thing that helps you sleep is the feeling of his skin and the sound of his voice, repeatedly whispering ‘i love you’s with his lips pressed against your head.

taglist:

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[sanguineterrain]

Jason is definitely the type to go feral over his best friend he hasn't seen in years. Hear me out: he's alive again, and not only that, but he's huge. Strong. People are afraid of him. So the reader is in town, walking the streets, and they meet again, maybe when he protects them as Hood. And reader is ecstatic to see Jason again of course and he's the same but also, all he can think is minemineminemine and I WANT YOU. mans is down horrendous for his sweet best friend that he missed and he's been in love with them for so long and now that he has them, he's not giving them up

idk if this was a prompt but i got inspired <3 thanks for stopping by anon

jason todd x gn!reader. feral jason i guess, but really soft jason. jason who yearns to be yours. jason who'd do anything for it, even if it meant one sided devotion... and also, jason who is loved by you. 1.2k words

****

"I don't understand why you can't come to my apartment."

"I told you why." Jason's posture is rigid but his tone is gentle. Because he has told you why he won't enter your home. Multiple times. Doesn't mean you don't challenge it every time you meet him on a random rooftop.

"It would be fine, Jay," you say. "I trust you."

"I know. But I don't trust everybody else," he says, words crackling through his modulator. That had frightened you at first; in fact, everything about a newly-resurrected Jason Todd had frightened you. From his height to the guns, you'd been sure that night in Gotham would be your last.

But then it had become clear that cheated death aside, nothing could kill his heart.

"You haven't visited in a while," you say.

You don't mean for it to sound accusatory.

"I know," Jason says. "Been busy. The Bats..."

And you knew. You knew the second you found out that Jason was alive that it would be like this, that he wouldn't be completely yours. He wasn't yours when he was Robin either, perhaps even less so.

And what's wrong with that? You have no right to ask him to be yours. To give you more.

But the recent distance has frightened you. Maybe it's for safety's sake, but your selfish heart wishes that he'd drop that for once.

Then again, there's always that dread in your stomach that perhaps Jason Todd doesn't love you the way you love him. And perhaps he never will.

"Well, I wish you'd call," you say.

This is wrong. You shouldn't be picking fights. Jason doesn't go dark out of cruelty, only necessity.

Jason sighs. "I can't. 'M sorry."

You cross your arms. It's chilly tonight.

"Do you even want to see me?"

He tilts his head. Dangerous.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to intrude," you say. "You're busy and all the stuff with B, I don't—I mean, I wouldn't hold it against you if you—"

Jason takes two long strides and closes the distance. You swallow the rest of your sentence as he backs you up against the brick exterior of an abandoned apartment. Your heart picks up. You're not afraid; the fear went long ago. You're just... something. You're something about Jason.

The last time you two hugged was after Willis' death. You'd wanted to wrap him in his cape, thought maybe that would make everything feel as small as he'd been.

Now, a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, Jason clearly does not need a cape. Right?

He takes off his helmet, lets it hang on his hand. His other hand is by your head. You lean back, let your neck go on display. Jason doesn't miss the movement.

"What're you doing, Jay?" you ask levelly.

Maybe he thinks you don't notice this distance but you do. You don't want to push him to talk about it, because as upsetting as it is, you're still strangers to each other.

You are and you're not. He died and he didn't. You grieved and you didn't. You burn and... you burn.

But you're tired of being and not being. You won't let him keep you in emotional purgatory. If he's done with you, he should just say so.

"If you don't want to meet anymore," you start, and let the words hang in the air.

"I—" he starts, then swallows. He tosses his helmet to the side. He doesn't touch you, just hovers inches away. Jason smells like lilac and gun smoke.

"I don't think you understand... my devotion," he says, voice low. "How much power you have over me."

Your eyes widen. "Wh—"

His green eyes reflect the streetlight like a cat's. The sight stops you short. Jason Todd is hot metal on a knife's edge, and it would do you well to remember that.

His hands curl into fists. He shakes his head.

"Sorry," he whispers like a prayer. "Not tryna scare you." His chest rises and falls rapidly. "'M I scarin' ya, sweetheart? Tell me and I'll go home, shake it off. Wait forever. I can be good. Won't want what I don't deserve."

"I'm not scared," you say, and it's the most sure you've ever been. "Not scared of you, Jay."

He breathes a laugh, like he can't quite believe you. His breath is warm on your neck.

"You'd be the first," he says. "The only one."

This, you believe. This, you have wondered some nights, knowing that even Batman isn't sure what to do with a son who lives with death on his shoulder.

"You don't have to devote yourself to me," you say, because that makes you pause. Who are you to be his god?

Jason laughs again, strong and sure. He sinks to his knees in front of you. His white streak glows in the light.

"You think it's a vice?" he asks. He rests a hand on your left thigh, testing. You lay your hand over his, so he holds your other thigh too.

He hums. "You do. You think you're holdin' me hostage."

Jason takes a shuddering breath and flattens his palms over your legs. Then he leans in and rests his cheek on your leg, nose near the apex of your thighs. Your belly flips.

"Let's make one thing clear. My devotion is my only redemption. 'S the only thing that makes me believe I'm not all rotted inside. Makes me behave. In this world and the next, I'm yours."

"I... Jason, you belong to yourself, not me. I don't—"

"You don't have to do anything. If it's too much, then I'll disappear. You can carry on."

You stroke the exposed side of his face. He looks up at you.

He is still. You have made him still.

"I'm yours too," you say.

He shakes his head. "You don't hafta—"

"Do you think being yours is a curse?" you ask, gaze sharp.

"Don't promise something for balance's sake," he rasps. "I'll be yours without you being mine."

Your heart is still. He has made it still.

"I'll keep coming back," Jason whispers, eyes wide. "If you're mine, I can't leave. Y'don't know what you're doing. Don't give yourself to me."

"I do. I'm yours."

His grip tightens around your legs. Jason shakes his head.

"Don't do it," he says into your thigh. "I shouldn't have anyone. I'm-I'm only meant to be yours. Nobody's mine."

But you know. You can slide your finger along his teeth and he'll wait with his mouth open. You can touch his edges and he'll turn his cheek so you won't nick your finger. He would sooner chew his own tongue.

"It's alright," you say, and kneel. You dirty your knees right alongside him. "It's okay, Jason. I know what I'm doing."

His breath hitches. Jason presses you into the brick, tucks his face into your neck. His arms wrap tightly around your waist.

"Sorry," he whispers frantically. "'M sorry. You can push me away. Sorry."

"I won't do that." You hold him and let him take you. "I know you're good. I thought—I thought you were pulling away, and I..."

"I was," he admits, muffled in your skin. "'M sorry. Was the only way I could think of to let you go. You deserve better. Couldn't think 'round you, honeylove. Knew it was a death sentence when I found out that you still lived in Gotham."

"It wasn't," you say. "Best thing that's ever happened to me."

Jason huffs. "You say that now, but..."

"No. I say it now and I'll say it again. Keep me, Jason. I'll keep you too."

[jarofstyles]

Bad Idea, Right?

Obviously inspired by Miss Olivia Rodrigo’s song, here is a one shot I loved writing :) a bit of angst, a bit of a fluff, a lot of smut, a little bit of everything!

Check out our Patreon for early access and 160+ exclusive writings!

WC- 6.2k

Warnings- toxic relationship, kinda asshole h, angst, crying, slight degradation, spitting, impact play (light), sex tape filming, daddy kink (light), use of Mama 🤭

—-

Y/N knew this was a very bad idea. She knew she was going to regret this in the morning, as she usually did when Harry texted her to show up somewhere, but here she was. 

Her best black dress in the most soft fabric, the one he had complimented her on endlessly before peeling it off when they had still been together, was glued to her body, Hair curled and falling down her shoulders. If she was going to show up at a houseparty that her ex boyfriend was throwing, she may as well go all out and wear something that she knew he liked. 

Internally, she tried to talk herself out of it as she approached the open door, ignoring the people making out on his lawn. The thump of the bass was audible outside, a deep sigh being let out as she tossed her phone in her clutch after texting him a simple ‘here.’ The shot she had taken before had done next to nothing to calm her nerves, her red lipstick meticulously touched up in the back of the uber as she squirmed in the seat surely getting fucked up as she bit down on her bottom lip, venturing into the home that used to be so familiar to her. 

It had been 5 months since they’d broken up, but it had barely seemed like it. Harry had a way of getting into her head and driving her absolutely fucking mad. Their back and forth seemed neverending, their text threads updating every few days. A fight, a makeup, a request to see one another. As much as she wanted to claim it was all him, she knew she was equally as bad. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to find someone else- but no one else could get her off like him.

Harry knew her body better than anyone else, every curve and mark, where to touch and stroke. Where to stroke, where to lick, where to bite. He was an expert on how to get her off in just minutes, her cunt completely dedicated to him as much as she wished it wasn’t. Her brain and pussy had no communication in the information regarding the fact they were broken up, much to her dismay. The only thing saving her ego was that she knew that she had the same effect on Harry. There was no way she didn’t. Harry could very well fuck anyone he wanted to, more than capable to pull. Y/N had been overly jealous as a girlfriend and she knew that, but people were drawn to her boyfriend despite the fact it was well known he was taken. While he didn’t seem to take them up on it- he ate up the attention and preened over it, much to her irritation. It caused fights upon fights, her going out of her way to make him jealous- which worked. They both seemed to get off on pissing each other off. 

Breaking up was supposed to stop the cycle, but it seemed to only string it out further.

There had been so many times she deleted his number but when he pulled up on her notifications again, she recognized the number and his attitude and couldn’t resist temptation. No one had ever made Y/N feel so many emotions in her life. Being around Harry was like a live wire, electric and hot, dangerous and potentially harmful, but the benefits sometimes outweighed the risks. 

Her nose crinkled as she felt the floor stick under her shoe, knowing he would be pissed about that tomorrow. Whatever spiked punch was all over the floor and that would take some elbow grease to get out. Navigating through the entryway, she made her way into the living room. It was dark, flimsy lighting had been put up to make colorful strobes go around the room, the room far too filled for comfort. It was stupidly warm, regret crawling up her neck as she looked around to find anyone familiar. 

“There she is!” The voice was unmistakable. Niall, arms tugging her in for a hug and pulling her into the kitchen where it was a bit quieter, the main group she was familiar with strung about along with a few strangers. “Harry’s girl is here, everyone! Y/N herself.” He chirped, making her give him a confused look until she followed his gaze to see Harry standing stiffly, a girl too close for comfort. Her eyes narrowed, taking in how the girl angled her body, hand resting on Harry’s arm, looking at her with a scowl. 

It was an ugly feeling to see someone else around her man. Well- he wasn’t her man, but it was another miscommunication between her heart and brain. She hated seeing him around someone else, the mere idea of him being with someone that wasn’t her made her stomach turn. It wasn’t right. Yes, she knew it was a toxic cycle but it was one she didn’t know how to break. She knew this was bad, but she didn’t want anyone else having him the way she did. 

The only saving grace was the fact that Harry looked uncomfortable, immediately peeling himself away from the other girl and coming straight over to Y/N.. Her face must have shown her irritation, mouth opening and arm resting on her hip as she went to give him a bit of hell but was cut off by his mouth. 

And Y/N’s body, she was a fucking traitor. Feeling his arms wrap around her and push her against the counter, his tongue pressing into her mouth and tasting the cinnamon from the alcohol and sticky remnants of Coca Cola on his lips made her brain go numb. She always did love how strong he was, how safe she used to feel wrapped up in his arms. There were a few wolf whistles surrounding them, but Y/N had been taken aback from the heat of it so early on, hand slipping between her and the counter to grab at her ass. A surprised moan left her mouth before Niall let out a laugh. 

“Alright, alright. Stop eating her, Harry.” Niall smacked his back, making Harry pull back with a hazy smirk. Almost dopy, making her blink up at him with her eyes narrowing again. His eyes were dark, lips wet now and that dark pink she liked so, so much. He hadn’t shaved today, leaving a bit of stubble around his face, a backwards hat combing his hair back to keep it out of his face. The nose piercing was swapped from a stud to a hoop, making her a bit surprised. Had he done that for her? He knew she liked it….

“You can take your hand off my ass now.” Her sassy tone didn’t match how her eyes looked, secretly loving that he had so publicly claimed her in front of a girl they both knew wanted him. It was a sick feeling, the victory even though she knew it was wrong to feel that way. It was a constant fight with herself. Knowing she should most definitely not be feeling so happy that her ex had just kissed her dumb in front of all his friends, but still liking that she had a claim on him. 

“I could.” He retorted. “But it feels so nice in my palm, and we both know how much you like it.” A squeeze was given, Y/N scowling back up at him but not making any attempt to move. If she wanted to, he would get out of the way- but they both knew how this went. She pretended she didn’t liked his hands on her, he taunted her, they would glare and play fight before it got a little real, and they’d fuck. A circle they’d swung around plenty of times. His lips lowered to her ear, ignoring the chatter around them. “You’re wearing my dress, hm?” 

“Yours? M’sorry, did you want to wear it?” She rose her eyebrow that she definitely hadn’t laid to perfection before she came here. “I forgot you even liked this one. It was the first thing I could reach in my closet.” Her nose was turned up, this time pushing past him to go over to the drinks. She looked down to see a cup with his name scribbled on it with a sharpie, lifting it up for confirmation before throwing it back.

Regretted immediately.

“Ugh- Harry, what the fuck?” She gagged, nose wrinkled as she opened his fridge to grab a bottle of water. “I forgot how disgusting your drinks are. God, how do you even have a stomach?” She gave him a horrified look, swishing the water in her mouth.’

“No one told you to fuckin’ take mine!” He grumbled, taking the cup to find it empty. “Fucks sake, Y/N. Taking my drink and then bitching about it. As usual.” He came up behind her to grab the bottle over the fridge, his ‘good stuff’ or whatever. It was already that time of night? 

Where they started poking at each other to cause a fight. To have an excuse to wander off and to strip down to nothing. 

“Excuse me?” Y/N grit her teeth, turning to look at him as he poured into his recently emptied cup. He was trying to get a rise out of her. 

“You heard me, princess. Know those ears work, considering you’re an eavesdropper.” 

Oh, he was going low. She crinkled the water bottle in her hands, shoulders tending as she exhaled sharply through her nose. “Well I wouldn’t have had to if you didn’t get so fucking weird with your phone. You were the one hiding a ‘project partner’ from me.” Her fingers did air quotes around that, showing that she didn’t believe his excuse. 

“Oh, for fucks sake.” Harry hissed, his own jaw setting. “I told you that she was just a partner for my paper. I didn’t tell you at first because I know you’d overreact and go all insane on me for daring to interact with another woman.” He snarled back, knowing where to hit where it hurt. 

“I wouldn’t have had to be paranoid if you’d respected me to stop flirting and entertaining girls who disrespected our relationship by hitting on you in front of me! You literally encouraged it!” She was trying to keep her voice down, but it was hard. This was an especially sore spot. 

“So replying with a thank you is encouraging it? Sue me for liking that someone complimented me on something!” He raised an arm up, running fingers through his hair in frustration before he turned away to lean on the counter with his arms crossed, cup in hand. “God, you do this every fucking time. We aren’t fucking together anymore, that’s your fault. Why do you continue to harrass me about this? Even if I did encourage it, I never went for it did I?” A cruel smirk emerged. “Though I’m a free agent now, yeah? Could go take Josslyn or Heather up on their offers?

Harry knew he had taken it a bit too far when her breathing caught for real, watching as he froze and her bottom lip trembled. That wasn’t a part of their regular script to wind each other up before hot sex. It was a bit of the real hurt that has blossomed through, but he hadn’t meant to let it out. Her eyes turned glassy, her hand snatching his drink and throwing it at his shirt. 

“Fuck you.” 

Harry felt the cold liquid hit him, hissing as he stood in slight shock as he watched her turn to leave. He had really fucked up. His stomach dropped as he tried to gather his bearings, cursing under his breath before going after her. 

“Y/N! Fuck, don’t go.” He yelled after her, making his way through the throngs of people in his living room, eyes watching her back go towards the door. While he had definitely said fucked up things before, this had been designed to hit where it really hurt. 

Y/N stomped through the living room, ignoring his calls for her as she got closer to the door- closer to escape- when she was caught. Arms wrapping around her waist as he pulled her into the bathroom next to the stairs and turning so he was against the door. Y/N kept her back towards him but yanked herself free from his grip, irritated that she was crying. That it still hurts. He knew it would and that’s partially what made it worse. He had been out to hurt her and she had known it was a bad idea to show up tonight but somewhere in her heart she had this tiny, tiny hidden hope that maybe tonight would be a night they could finally get over their differences. She missed him so much it ached if she allowed herself to feel it, but she had tried to refuse her feelings. 

It had boiled over now, though.

Harry swallowed thickly as he heard the sniffle. Y/N wasn’t one to cry about a lot. She hadn’t shed a lot of tears in the time they’d been together, emotionally iron clad as it seemed. When she did? It was unnerving. Heartbreaking. It was one of his least favorite things ever, seeing her crumble. While he may have enjoyed getting her angry and irritated, maybe a little jealous, he never liked hurting her. He gained no pleasure from that. 

“Baby…” He spoke softly, trying to turn her around, hands pulling at her shoulders. He was bigger than her and could definitely turn her around if he wanted to, but he wouldn’t ever touch her in a way she didn’t want. 

“No. You can’t- you can’t call me that anymore. I am not your baby.” She hissed, keeping herself turned from him. Harry winced. She hadn’t said that before, not seriously, but the venom in her voice had shown how upset she was. It was laced with the hoarse blanket that coated her voice when she cried, making it even worse. “You can go call Josslyn or Heather. I’m sure they’d love to be your b-baby.” The end of the sentence was joined with a little sob, effectively breaking his heart further. 

“No. No, I’m not… I didn’t mean it, Y/N. I promise. I was just upset and I didn’t mean for it to come out, I just wanted you to feel-”

“What?” Whipping around, Y/N’s mascara streaked cheeks were a blow to the chest. Her vulnerability was something he used to crave, to be the one she confided in or let herself break with. He wanted to be there for her. Not be the cause of her tears. “You wanted me to feel hurt, like you did? Do you not think I don’t hurt every fucking day?” 

“You broke up with me!” Harry tried, her glare making him stop talking quickly after. 

“I broke up with you because you didn’t take me seriously. How could you go from telling me you can’t wait to put a ring on my finger, can’t wait to have a family with me, to flirting with girls the same night? Do you know how humiliating it is to have your friends tell you that they heard so and so say they were going to try something because it ‘obviously isn’t serious with Y/N?” The incredulous look on her face made him shrink back a bit. 

“I didn’t know that! It was never real flirting, Y/N. I liked to get my ego stroked, the attention felt nice, but I would never, ever step out on you. I love you, for fucks sake!” He went to reach for her but she backed up, flinching slightly. Another dagger to the chest. He had really, really fucked up. She never denied his touch.

“You love me?” A humorless laugh escaped her swollen lips. “Is that how you love people, Harry? Make them feel disposable and humiliated because you can’t be happy with one girl telling you that she loves you back? My compliments weren’t enough?” Arms crossed defensively over her chest. “Give me a fucking break. Telling me that as if you didn’t just say moments ago that you should take up girls who actively disrespected our relationship on their offers to fuck you while you were dating me? Yeah, that’s definitely something someone who loved me would do.” She wanted to stay angry but she was hurt. Hurt so bad, the full weight of their breakup actually hitting her as she felt the sob crawl up her throat and hurried to cover her eyes as she began to cry. It couldn’t be held back. She was at her breaking point.

Harry wanted to throw up. He hadn’t thought of it that way, and honestly? He had never expected this. Sometimes Y/N had acted as if she didn’t have a lot of emotion, reserved and a bit quiet when she expressed herself. The one time he had gotten her to let go was during sex, where he truly felt her desire. That was maybe why he liked the attention from other people. She wasn’t very forthcoming with praise or overly lovey with him, and it had hurt a little. But he could deal with that later, because his poor fucking girl was sobbing in front of him.

“No, no… sweet girl. Please.” He watched as she dropped down to sit on the floor, gathering her knees to her chest as he followed after her. “Hey- M’so sorry. I didn’t think about it like that. I really didn’t. I was just talking out of my ass because I was hurt we’re still broken up a-and I shouldn’t have said anything but….” He sat down fully next to her, pulling her body on to his lap. She tried to squirm at first but he could tell it was half hearted as she settled down a moment later, the sobs wracking her body as his arms wrapped around her and his lips went to her ear. 

“M’so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t ever want to make you feel that way. You’ve always been so important to me and this is breaking my heart.” He whispered. “Hate that you’re crying because of me. I hate that I ever made you doubt that you were important to me, or that I respect you. I do. I promise you, I do.” He whimpered slightly, desperate to get her to believe him. “I’m an ass, I know. But you have to know I do, I love you so much. I’m so fucking sorry for throwing that in your face.” 

In the grand scheme of things, he knew that some people would think she was overreacting- but he understood now. He hadn’t truly meant to take it that far, hadn’t even stopped to think that those exact women had been sources of insecurity. They were the first to pop into his head because he had rejected them again tonight, waiting for Y/N to arrive. 

He never wanted to be broken up with. He had planned on being with her forever, and he had fucked it up. 

Her cries started to fade, sniffles taking the place of sobs as he whispered soft words, consoling her. He knew he’d fucked up tonight, in their relationship. He hadn’t communicated the way he needed to and he played games, but he thought that it would get a different reaction. His intentions weren’t to hurt her. Selfishly, stupidly, he assumed it hadn’t phased her. That she was just angry and not upset. 

If she’d give him another chance he’d fix it. He’d make sure to open her up a little more, make her feel more safe. Reign in his flirting, make sure he was just polite instead. He’d never put their relationship in jeopardy again. “C’mon. Come with me, to my room.” Standing up, he pulled her along with her. It said a lot about her right now that she wasn’t fighting, letting him lead her to his room with her hand tucked in his own. Her face was downcast, making sure no one could see that she’d cried as Harry took the key from his pocket and undid the lock. He really didn’t want strangers in his room.

It was still the same. His navy bedspread and Nirvana posters on the side of his wall, his desk slightly messy with a leftover fast food cup sitting next to his water bottle on his night stand. He’s gotten it for her, because she got thirsty in the middle of the night. 

What really got her attention was the framed photo of them that was right next to it. Her soft smile and his wide one, teeth out as he held her in his lap. His flannel was around her and his hat was backwards as he snuggled her. It had been cool that night but there was a bonfire, not enough seats and a handsy Harry ready to make his lap her throne. Her throat tightened as she looked at the photo, dropping his hand and wrapping her arms around her body to self soothe before she walked up to it. 

“Why do you still have this up?” Her voice was shaky still, looking down at the happy memory. 

“Because I still love you. I told you.” Hands were placed on her hips as she was brought into him, hugging her from behind as he unwrapped her arms and threaded their fingers together. “I know I’ve been shit. I’ve been… impatient, an attention whore, all of the insults you’ve said. But I love you. I have since day one. I’d have never cheated on you, regardless of what you may believe.” The idea of it made him feel ill. 

“Then why?” Her wavering voice made him frown. “Why did you keep flirting with people in my face? I know you said it was cause I wasn’t giving you enough compliments but I didn’t know you thought that.” His heart nearly snapped in two when her voice broke. “I thought the world of you. I was so proud to be with you and then… I thought you just didn’t like me anymore. I know…” A deep inhale was felt as her tummy lifted both of their arms. “I know I can be a little cold or quiet, but I had no idea you felt neglected. I pulled back because you kept talking to other girls how you used to talk to me and… I didn’t feel like it was okay to.”

It made him feel worse. Hearing this now. Y/N had broken up with him and he’d been hurt, his pride making him sneer at her and the nastiness was even more uncalled for now that he knew. Y/N wasn’t a bitch, she wasn’t unfeeling- she didn’t feel safe. He’d done that to her because he was the little bitch here, not giving her the safety she needed in order to open up. While they should’ve been continuing growing, he got his feelings hurt and made it impossible for her to feel like she could give those things to him. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice was weak. “I’m sorry. I’ll keep saying it. I didn’t mean it. I promise, nothing I've said is true. I wanted to wind you up, I wanted to fuck you because it was the only way you’d get close to me again. I never intended on making you feel unsafe with me, fuck. That’s the last thing I ever wanted. Makes me feel sick to hear that.” He nuzzled against her neck, placing a kiss there before pulling away, unwrapping them and sitting on the edge of his bed. Y/N wasn’t fighting him, so he gently tugged her to sit on his lap, this time facing him. “There she is.” A sad smile lifted his lips, thumb wiping away the streaks of mascara that had flaked off with her tears. “Still so pretty when you cry, even if it breaks m’heart.” 

It was worse than a kicked puppy. Y/N wasn’t a huge emoter so knowing that he’d done this had made him wonder what she did alone. How many other times he’d made her cry but she wasn’t solid enough around him to do it in front of him. 

“You broke mine.” She whispered, looking down at his shirt. “I don’t mean to be a bitch. I was just scared.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Let me fix it. Please?” Holding her face in his hands, he got her eyes back on his. “Let me make it better. I won’t do any of that ever again, I’ll communicate better… Just let me make your heart feel safe again.”

Y/N knew she was a sucker for this. She shouldn’t say yes. Every part of her except her brain was screaming to stay, though. While her head was telling her to run away as fast as she could, her heart thudded in her chest and her body wanted closer to his own. It was a decision she may come to regret, maybe she’d hate herself for it, but she couldn’t let go. “O-Okay.” She whispered, feeling his head fall against hers. “Please don’t break my heart again, H. I can’t do that again.” 

“I’d rather die.” 

His lips were pressed against hers, and moved quickly from there. 

One of the things that never lacked with them as a couple was sexual chemsitry. It’s what had them so obsessed with each other at first. The best way to get Y/N to express herself was when she was full of cock or close to the edge of orgasm, which was why Harry had no problem saying his apologies between her legs. 

“M’sorry, baby.” He crooned, licking over her drippy slit. “So, so sorry. M’gonna take care of you.” Lips pressed kisses to her clit, a keening whine leaving her lips as fingers clutched his hair and brought him closer to her. His mouth had always been his greatest gift and biggest curse. Somehow he knew all the right things to say, all the right things to do to pleasure her but always stuck his goddamn foot in his mouth. He was going to change that now. 

Dark green gazed into hers as he took another broad lick, the tip of his nose brushing over her clit. Large hands with chipped polish wrapped around her thighs and kept them spread, his hair a mess from her hands carding through it with their hot makeout and now his time spent working on her pussy. This was undoubtable a perk of being with the man, knowing how much he genuinely loved to eat pussy. He’d spend hours licking and sucking on her, making her sensitive and cum over and over again whenever he had the chance. For his birthday he’d genuinely wanted a day inside with her where he spent the majority of his morning eating her for breakfast, her thighs his perfect earmuffs from the snow that happened to fall on the day. 

Whenever they spent time apart he missed this desperately. He’d not even tried to find someone to replace this because he knew the feeling wouldn’t ever be the same. Sure, he’d loved eating pussy before Y/N but it had turned into a full on obsession with her. No one had ever tasted as good, made as many cute noises, squealed when his mouth latched on her clit and his finger curled just right- like he was doing now, holding her bucking hips down. 

“Oh, I know, Mama, I know.” He cooed against her. “Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Needed my mouth on this greedy fucking pussy…” Pursing his lips, he spit over her slit and watched it drip with a hiss before usng his tongue to spread it, digits dripping down to his wrist before his tongue trilled over the swollen bud. It didn’t take much to push her over, but a well timed smack against her thigh to get her to stop squirming had done the job. A wet gasp tore from her mouth as she squeale his name, simultaneously pulling his mouth against her and trying to push him away. Using his strength against her, he made sure to lick up a bit before spitting again, leaving her pussy wet and messy as he climbed up her body and kissed her hard. 

His chin was wet and she knew he was a fucking mess but her tongue delved into his mouth, tasting herself on him. She could hear the tug down of his zipper, felt him moving and wiggling his pants down but she was too busy sucking on his tongue and reveling in his moans against her to think twice before she felt the tip of his cock smack against her cunt. 

“I’m clean, baby. No one but you, never need anyone but you.” His grip on her chin was tight as he rutted himself against her cunt. “Even when you were being a miserable bitch t’me, all I wanted to do was love on you. M’gonna make sure you never fucking doubt how much you own me again. This is the only cunt I need.” 

There was sick satisfaction that rolled through him as he slid into her and felt the stretch, watching her mouth fall open as she was filled. It only confirmed what he had hoped- she hadn’t been fucking around much, if at all. Granted, he was thick and long and it would be hard to beat him, but he knew what she felt like when she was well fucked. “Oh, look at that…” He whispered, angling her head down to look at where her pussy lips clung to his cock as he pulled out a bit. “She missed me, didn’t she, baby? Sweet pussy missed my cock so fucking much, doesn’t want me to pull away.” 

Harry was by far the filthiest man she’d ever experienced but that’s part of the appeal. He may be a bit of an asshole, but god, he knew how to fuck. How to kiss. How to make her feel special when he wasn’t being a dickhead. Moments like this always wiped that shit clean, the slate cleared and her head foggy as all she could focus on was how right he was. “Yeah- yeah, don’t take it from me again.” She growled, digging her nails into his skin. “Don’t fucking take my cock from me again, don’t make me walk away. This is mine.” 

Harry hissed, loving the sting on his skin and how she spoke. Y/N could be a fierce little bitch and he loved that about her. She hadn’t been pleased tonight and he’d taken it too far, but she was going to have no doubt how much he had been missing her. Their hate sex had been good, but their makeup sex was even better. “Never, Mama. Never, it’s all yours. You’re right.” His voice soothed, pushing back into her and reveling in how hot she was. Tight. Everything he could possibly need. “It’s yours always, and I don’t want anyone else. Jus’ want you to let me love on you, make you feel good. Be my girl again. He had everything else he wanted, but Y/N was the missing link. He’d fucked up with her, but he wouldn’t do it again. Not when this was how explosive it was between them. 

“You better fucking treat me right.” Her hand held his face now. “Better be so nice to me, buy me f-flowers and hold my hand… Fuck me good, make sure all the other b-bitches know that you’re taken.” Her legs wound around him and he felt a heel surely to bruise his ass, but he didn’t care. “Don’t let them think you’re available because you’re an attention whore.”

Harry moaned at the degrading words, because they were true. He was indeed an attention whore and he’d never deny it. “Only for you, baby. Want all your fucking attention… fuck.” He hissed, thrusting slower as he looked at where they joined. “Creaming on my cock already, really must have missed me.” Noses brushed before he fucked harder into her, trying to bring her to the edge. “Fingers didn’t cut it, did they? No toy can make you feel as good as his. Know that you needed Daddy t’fuck you right.” 

Y/N let out a wail as he tugged her hips up, his face leaving hers to sit on his knees while he fucked her. He was getting the spot she needed, saying the words she wanted and she felt hot all over. Syrupy, sticky hot as she dripped down her ass as the sound of their sex filled his room. The music muffled behind the door didn’t matter, all she wanted to hear was his dirty talk and the sound of their skin. “Yes, I needed it Daddy- Fuck me, fuck me right. You always make me cum over and over…” her head rolled back on the mattress as her fingers found his wrists, grounding herself as he fucked her steady and hard. 

His eyes took in the view of bouncing tits and a messy cock pistoning in and out of her creamy cunt, breathing heavy while he felt her tighten up on him. His goal was always to make sure she came over and over, a generous lover being one of his positive attributes. “Mhm… It’s never changed, Mama. M’gonna give it to you just like that. God, you look so fucking pretty on my dick, baby. Need to capture it.” He adjusted slightly as he took his phone out, thankful his pants had only been down a few inches as he pressed record. A breathy laugh left him as he fucked into her willing body, aiming the camera down at her face. “Say hi to the camera, pretty girl.” He crooned. 

“H-Hi Daddy.” She mewled, preening under the attention. It was a guilty pleasure of hers, knowing he had the filthy images and videos on his phone. It was even better to watch it back and see just how wrecked she got from him. “You’re gonna be nice to me so you- so you don’t have to delete these, right?” He’d had to delete all the videos when they broke up, but she hoped this time they’d get to stick around forever. 

“Of course, my sweet girl. Never gonna fuck this up again… Not when we look so fucking good together. Feel so fucking good together…. Fuck, look at that…” He got a close up of her cunt as it stretched to fit him, clinging to his length. “You’re gonna cum, I can feel it.” His eyes met hers as he started to get her to the edge, her face glistening and eyes hazy. “Go on, baby. Do it. Cum on my cock, make a fucking mess.” 

Harry could feel it as she did, the high pitched whine of his name and the bite of her nails as she writhed on his cock, the camera capturing her face as she did so. Mouth open and eyes rolled back, the blissed out smile following as he fucked her through it. He didn’t stop, tossing the phone to the side as he kissed her again as his cock pulsed, trying to hold back his own orgasm. “Mmm… fuck. I love when you cum on me. So gorgeous, all mine.” He rubbed their noses together again while humping into her, her impossibly hot cunt clinging to him as he peppered kisses to her face. “But I’m not done with you yet.” 

“No?” She grinned, feeling drunk. “Should have known, you sex maniac- fuck.” She pushed his hand away from her cunt. “Give a girl a minute, fucks sake.” 

“Just got you back, can you blame me?” He smiled against her mouth, sucking her lower lip into his mouth and grazing it with his teeth. He wanted her to look freshly fucked and glowing tomorrow when she had to meet up with her friends for brunch, sure to piss them off with the news that they’re back together. “Mean it, I’m not letting you go this time. Never again.” His smirk got bigger. “Pussy’s too fucking good.” 

“Shut up, slut.” She pushed his face away playfully. You’ve got more than one orgasm to go until I think about taking you back. Prove your worth to me.” His cock could be felt twitching inside her yet again. 

“Whatever you say, Mama.” He cooed, pulling out of her regretfully. “Now, get on your knees. I’ve got to say sorry to your pretty ass.”

[alexisomnias]

  "LAY ON MY LAP" . . .

⤷ when they're stressed, you offer your lap as a pillow! requested by anonymous ,,,

featuring the DORM LEADERS

"RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

“i can…?”

riddle is admittedly nervous when you first say he could rest his head down on your lap. its not that he doesn’t want to! its just that it may be awkward… at least on his behalf. he's never really been intimate with anyone, and while this could be argued as not that intimate, it was too him! (it took him weeks to even start holding your hand)

he glances at you, questioning with his second glance. when you show no sign of retracting your statement he slowly leans his head down to lay on your lap. in no longer then a few minutes he’s comfortable as ever, and soon enough all signs of stress leave him as shallow breaths of tiredness replace it. riddle didn’t realize how comforting such a thing could be… he may take this upon him more often, of course if you let him!

"LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

“lean back.”

leona is the one to take the initiative, finding you laying on his bed upon returning back to his dorm room. he sees it as the perfect chance to destress with his lover by his side as the solution. Might as well sleep it off, no? especially since there is the gift of you right there for him.

you put your phone down, throwing him a questioning glance, to which leona ignores and takes a seat in front of you. leaning back till his head lies between your thighs. resting himself in your embrace, like he was meant to be there in the first place. sleeping like a cat on your lap, your hands might start to slave away through his hair, lulling him to sleep fast enough to let all the stress of the day leave him. it doesn't take long for his heart to calm, and mind to stop running. he knew you were the perfect pillow.

"AZUL ASHENGROTTO

“are you sure?!?”

azul admittedly had a rough day. the handle on the tweels slipped far much more then usual today which left him doing majority of the work dealing with both the business and keeping the eel brothers in check, lots of running around which left him stressed and exhausted by the end of the day. so when you recommend that he comes rest on your lap? that leaves him breathless with flush creeping up his skin as his heart rings in melody.

upon reassurance that you don’t mind and only wish to help him,. azul pushes past embarrassment of the situation and lays his head down on your lap. his head fitting perfectly on your warm skin (contrary to his cooler tone of temperature), and his eyes shut in relaxation. was being this close to you always so comforting? the stress leaves his system, for even if only this moment… it dissipates into nothing but undying love for you.

"KALIM AL ASIM

“thank you!”

kalim for the most part didn’t need an excuse to lay his head down on your lap. though in this moment of time, when you offer it, he takes it up, oh your so nice to him... a bright smile on his face as he looks up at you from between your legs. head lying down on you as he hums comfortably. loving feeling close to you as he is.

stress wasn’t an uncommon emotion for kalim, while it never took over a fooled through his head, today it seemed to catch a hold and didn’t let go like caught bait,,, it seemed as if the universe was nice enough today to bring you to him and let him rest in an aura of your love. and he wouldn't give it up for the world, for you make him happier then anything else in the world could ever make him be.

"VIL SCHOENHEIT

“are you okay with that?”

vil was no stranger to affections, he engages such with you quite often as well! so he asks you once again if your truly okay with him laying down and using your lap as his pillow. when you agree that its okay, vil silently makes his way over and lays his head down upon your lap. he quickly gets rested, and secure between your legs as he takes deep breaths. arms crossed over his chest as he lies down in a princely manner (he is always so pristine it seems..."

he says a thank you, whispering it softly for your ears only. it seems only you knew when he was in need of a rest, a break of sorts. it seems as if only you know when he needs it the most, when he needs you the most... he can thank you for that though, thank you for sticking by his side even when he is during his more ugly moments.

"IDIA SHROUD

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"

upon hearing your request, his hair flushes pink in a quick motion. the tips of his hair burning quickly as he stutters. thats so embarrassing! how could you ever request something such like that?! he pretty much crashes when you say it would be fine and you'd be happy to have him on your lap! do you have any idea what your consenting to?! (its not that bad man!)

it takes a bit of reassurance, and a lot of apprehension on idia's behalf, for him to silently waltz over and lay his head embarrassingly between your legs on your lap. he hides his face in your thigh, though you could feel the heat radiating off it, as you laugh softly (he loves that sound). he mutters a thank you, letting his thoughts fly away. it was like you were a protection charm used in video games, used to keep negativity away from him!

"MALLEUS DRACONIA

"oh? how interesting."

malleus found the concept of using a lap as a pillow amusing. he briefly remembers Lilia laying him on his lap when he was younger, and seeing the same done with Silver and Sebek, though nobody has ever offered... interesting. today malleus wasn't in the bests of moods, piling stress one on another truly gets to everyone at some point it seems. and this is... just what he needs.

so he accepts your offer on stand, and lays down. laying horizontal on your lap so his horns don't stab against your stomach, and malleus quickly grows relaxed. a homey feeling you truly do give off for him. perhaps he'd ask to lay like this more often, he thinks to himself, admiring you from below. staring up at you as you lay back yourself to rest.

"how wonderful you look under the moonlight." he thinks.